\ 


\ 


'/t 


CHAR 


S-G;D  ROBERTS 


LIBRARY    OF 

HENRY  C.  FALL. 

AND  KATHARINE  A.  FALL 


1o55." 


Dumber 

Date  of  Purchase_ 

Place 

Cost 


'7  /f  ^ 


She 

Ibaunters 

of  the 

Silences 


THE   LEADER  OF  THE  CARIBOU   HERD      .     .      .     RETURNED  THE  STALLION'S 
INQUIRING  STARE  WITH  A  GLANCE    OF    MILD  CURIOSITY.— Page  122, 


IDaunters  of 
tbe  Silences 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE  BY 
CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

Author  of 

"The  Kindred  of  the  Wild/'  "Red  Fox/' 
"  The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood, "  "  The  Forge 
in  the  Forest,"  "The  Heart  That  Knows,"  etc. 


With  many  \\\A,/  CHARLES 

Illustrations  and  '  W          LIVINGSTON 

Decorations  by  \  BULL 

GROSSET    &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS      -      -      -      NEW  YORK 


\    Copyright,  7905,  7906,  by 
THE  METROPOLITAN 

MAGAZINE  COMPANY 
"tyright,  7906,  by 
HARPER  AND  BROTHERS 


HERALD  COMPANY 


Copyright,  7904,  by 

THE  NEW  YORK 
Copyright,  7907,  by 

THE  S.  S.  MCCLURE  Co. 
Copyright,  7907,  by 

THE  NEW  YORK  TIMES  COMPANY 


Copyright,  7906,  by 

PERRY  MASON  COMPANY 
Copyright,  7906,  7907,  by 

THE  RIDGWAY  COMPANY 
Copyright,  7906,  by 

HE  CENTURY  COMPANY 


Copyright,  7907,  by 

L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 

ENTERED  AT  STATIONER'S  HALL,  LONDON 
All  rights  reserved 


First  impression,  May,  1907 


Cbarles  OUvingeton  Bull 


prefatory  IRote 


HE  present  collection  of  stories  dealing 
with  creatures  of  the  wilderness  differs 
from  its  companion  volumes,  "  The 
Kindred  of  the  Wild  "  and  "  The  Watchers  of  the 
Trails,"  in  one  important  particular.  It  contains 
certain  studies  and  depictions  of  a  sphere  of  wild 
life  which  presents  peculiar  difficulties  to  the  ob- 
server, viz.:  the  life  of  the  dwellers  in  the  deep 
sea.  Our  investigation  of  these  remote  kindreds 
is  at  best  spasmodic,  and  conducted  always  at  the 
extreme  of  disadvantage;  and  the  knowledge 
which  we  may  gain  from  such  investigation  must 
always  remain  in  a  measure  fragmentary.  It  is 
not  easy  for  any  observer  to  be  intimate  with 
a  sawfish;  and  the  most  ardent  naturalist's  ac- 
quaintance with  an  orca,  or  "  killer  "  whale,  must 
be  essentially  a  distant  one,  if  he  would  hope  to 
put  his  observations  upon  record.  Needless  to  say, 
my  own  knowledge  of  the  orca,  the  shark,  the 
narwhal,  or  the  colossal  cuttlefish  of  the  ocean' 


vi  prefatory  mote 

depths,  is  not  of  the  same  kind  as  my  knowledge 
of  the  bear,  the  moose,  the  eagle,  and  others  of 
the  furtive  folk  of  our  New  Brunswick  wilder- 
ness. When  I  write  of  these  latter  I  build  my 
stories  upon  a  foundation  of  personal,  intimate, 
sympathetic  observation,  the  result  of  a  boyhood 
passed  in  the  backwoods,  and  of  almost  yearly 
visits,  ever  since  my  boyhood,  to  the  wild  forest 
regions  of  my  native  province.  But  when  I 
write  of  the  kindreds  of  the  deep  sea,  I  am  relying 
upon  the  collated  results  of  the  observations  of 
others.  I  have  spared  no  pains  to  make  these 
stories  accord,  as  far  as  the  facts  of  natural  history 
are  concerned,  with  the  latest  scientific  informa- 
tion. But  I  have  made  no  vain  attempt  at  inter- 
pretation of  the  lives  of  creatures  so  remote  from 
my  personal  knowledge;  and  for  such  tales  as 
"  A  Duel  in  the  Deep,"  "  The  Terror  of  the  Sea 
Caves,"  or  "  The  Prowlers,"  my  utmost  hope  is 
that  they  may  prove  entertaining,  without  being 
open  to  any  charge  of  misrepresenting  facts.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  certain  of  the  stories  dealing 
with  the  results  of  my  own  observation  and  ex- 
perience, I  have  dared  to  hope  that  I  might  be 
contributing  something  of  value  to  the  final 
disputed  question  of  animal  psychology.  For 


IPretatotB  mote  vu 

such  stories,  which  offer  in  the  form  of  fiction 
what  my  observations  have  compelled  me  to 
regard  as  fact,  I  have  presented  my  case  already, 
in  the  prefaces  to  "  The  Watchers  of  the  Trails" 
and  "  Red  Fox."  To  those  prefaces  I  would  add 
nothing  here;  and  from  the  conclusions  therein 
stated  I  have  nothing  to  retract.  I  would  merely 
take  this  occasion  to  reaffirm  with  confidence  the 
belief,  which  I  find  shared  by  practically  all  ob- 
servers whose  lives  are  passed  in  the  closest  re- 
lationship with  animals,  —  by  such  vitally  inter- 
ested observers,  for  instance,  as  keepers,  trainers, 
hunters,  and  trappers,  —  that  the  actions  of 
animals  are  governed  not  only  by  instinct,  but 
also,  in  varying  degree,  by  processes  essentially 
akin  to  those  of  human  reason. 

C.  G.  D.  R. 


Contents  of  tbe  Book 


Summons  of  tbe  IRortb  . 

Xast  Barrier      .... 
answerers  to  tbe  Call    . 
Ube  prisoners  of  tbe  flMtcber*  plant 

Ube  prowlers 

a  Stranger  to  tbe  Wilo  . 
TKIlben  tbe  Xogs  Come  Down 
a  Duel  in  tbe  Beep. 
ZTbe  Xittle  ZT^rant  of  tbe  Burrows 
Ube  IRinawaafc  JSucft 


3 

31 

70 

84 

92 

108 

132 

140 

153 

168 


x  Contents  of  tbe  JSoofc 

PAGS 

Ube  "fceron  in  tbe  TCeeos.      .    -  .      *  194 

f  n  tbe  Deep  ot  tbe  Silences       *      .  202 

©n  tbe  migbt  ttrail 218 

mben  tbe  Si oe  Came  over  tbe  /iDarsbes  235 

TOnoer  tbe  tree* roof.      .      *      *      *  243 

Ube  Uerror  of  tbe  Hir    »  261 

In  tbe  Zttnfenown  Barft    .  268 

terror  of  tbe  Sea  caves      .      .  282 


E  %fst  of  the 
Brewings  in  the  Booh 


THE  LEADER  OF  THE  CARIBOU  HERD  .  .  .  RE- 
TURNED THE  STALLION'S  INQUIRING  STARE  WITH 
A  GLANCE  OF  MILD  CURIOSITY  "  (See  page  122) 

Frontispiece 

SOME  INEXPERIENCED  SEAL  HAD  BEEN  FOOLISH 
ENOUGH  TO  LIE  BASKING  CLOSE  BESIDE  AN  ICE- 
CAKE  " 7 

xi 


xii    H  Xist  ot  tbe  dfulUpaae  Drawings 

PAGE 
"  SHE  LED  PTM  FARTHER  AND  FARTHER  ACROSS  THE 

ICE  " 13 

"  WOULD  RUN  GLEEFULLY  TO  SNAP  THEM  UP  AND  EAT 

THEM  " 14 

"  SOME  ONE  ON  DECK  DISCERNED  THE  CROUCHING 

BEAR  " .  24 

"  HE  SAW  A  BIG  SUCKER  SETTLE  'LAZILY  WHERE  THE 

THRONGING  FRY  WERE  THICKEST  "...  34 
"  HELD  FIRMLY  BETWEEN  THE  EDGES  OF  HIS  GREAT 

BEAK  " 42 

"  LEAPING  HIGH  our  OF  THE  POOLS  "  ...  45 

•'  VANQUISHED  IN  THEIR  OWN  ELEMENT  BY  THE  MINK  "  59 
"  AGAIN  HE  SHOT  INTO  THE  SPRAY  -  THICK  AIR  ON 

THE  FACE   OF   THE    FALL  " 68 

"  SCUTTLED  OFF  INTO  THE  WOODS  LIKE  A  FRIGHT- 
ENED WOODCHUCK  " 74 

"  THE    MOOSE    CAME    IN    SIGHT    UP    THE     BROOK 

CHANNEL  "  . 79 

"  AT  THIS  MOMENT  A  PASSING  SHRIKE  SWOOPED 

DOWN  " 85 

"  LAY  MOTIONLESS  BUT  FOR  THE  EASY  WAVING  OF  ITS 

FINS  "  .  97 

"  ONLY  THAT  SHARP  BLACK  FIN,  THAT  PROWLED  AND 

PROWLED,  KEPT  ALWAYS  IN  SIGHT  "...  IOI 

"  DIRECTLY  BENEATH  THE  SHARK  THE  STRANGER 

CAME  " 105 

"  HE  STRUCK  OUT  DESPERATELY,  AND  SOON   CLEARED 

THE  TURMOIL   OF   THE   BREAKERS  "         .          .  .Ill 

"  THE      SOUTHWARD      JOURNEYING      DUCKS,      WHICH 


H  OList  ot  tbe  ffulMpage  H>rawin0s 


WOULD      DROP      WITH      LOUD      QUACKING      AND 
SPLASHING   INTO   THE   SHALLOWS  "          .         .         .121 
"  IT  WAS  THE  COW  MOOSE  CALLING  FOR  HER  MATE  "      125 
"  THE  PLUCKY  LITTLE  ANIMAL  JUMPED  AS  FAR  AS  HE 

COULD  " 136 

"  THEN,  WITH  THE  LARGEST  PRIZE  IN  HIS  JAWS,  HE 

SWAM  SLOWLY  TO  THE  ROCK  "      .       .       .       .     151 

"  LAY  DOWN  IN  SULLEN  TRIUMPH  TO  LICK  HIS 

WOUNDS  " 152 

"  THE  BAFFLED  SHREW  JUMPED  STRAIGHT  INTO  THE 

AIR  " 158 

"  WlTA  A  FRANTIC  LEAP  HE  SHOT  THROUGH  THE  AIR  "      160 
"  TURN  HIS  NARROW,   SNARLING  FACE  TO  SEE  WHAT 

THREATENED  " 173 

"  WHEN  HE  STOPPED  TO  DRINK  AT  THE  GLASSY  POOL  "  180 

"  NOISELESSLY  FADED  BACK  THROUGH  THE  COVERT  "  185 

"  THEN  HE  LEAPED  THE  FENCE  AGAIN  "  .       .       .  186 

"  HE  WAS  IN  THE  IRON  CLUTCH  OF  A  MUSKRAT  TRAP  "      198 

"  HIS  COURSE  TOOK  HIM  FAR  OUT  OVER  THE  SOUND- 
LESS SPACES  " 203 

"  FOR  ALL  HIS  SEEMING  AWKWARDNESS  HE  MOVED  AS 

DELICATELY  AS  A  CAT  " 208 

"  THE  WATER  SPLASHED  HIGH  AND  WHITE  ABOUT 

HIM  " 213 

"  THE  SHREW  -  MOUSE  .  .  .  DARTED  OUT  INTO  THE 

LIGHT  " 2l8 

"HIS  ROUND,  SINISTER  EYES  GLARED  PALELY  INTO 

EVERY  COVERT  " 22O 

"  HE   SAW   THE  GRAY  FORMS   OF  THE  PACK  "      ,  ,228 


xiv    a  Zist  of  tbe  fuU*pa0€  Drawings 

PAGE 

"  A  SNIPE  WHICH  FLEW  TOO  LOW  OVER  THE  DITCH  "     238 

"  MADLY  JOYOUS.  HE  KILLED,  AND  KILLED,  AND 

KILLED,  FOR  THE  JOY  OF  KILLING  "  .  .  .  241 

"  WOULD  WHISK  SHARPLY  INTO  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE 

BLACK  TUNNEL  " 247 

"  CONFRONTING  THE  TWO  GREAT  CATS  WITH  UP- 
LIFTED PAW  AND  MOUTH  WIDE  OPEN  "  .  .  258 

"  ONCE   MORE  THE  WATCHFUL  SENTINEL  APPEARED  "      260 

"  THE  NOISELESS  WINGS  WERE  NOW  JUST  BEHIND 

HTM  " 266 

"HIS  APPREHENSIVE  EARS  CAUGHT  A  CURIOUS 

SOUND  " 274 

"  THE  BIG  OWL  HAD  BEEN  DISTURBED  AT  ITS  BAN- 
QUET "  277 

"  WHICH    SEEMED    TO    SCRUTINIZE    HIM    STEADILY  "      278 

"  THOSE  SWDJT  AND  IMPLACABLE  LITTLE  WHALES  WHO 

FEAR  NO  LIVING  THING  "  • 296 

"  FAR  OFFSHORE,  ONE  OF  THESE  MONSTERS  CAME  UP 

AND  SPRAWLED  UPON  THE  SURFACE  "  .  .  .300 
"  UP  DARTED  A  LIVID  TENTACLE,  AND  FIXED  UPON 


IT  " 


302 


"  A  SINGULAR  FIGURE,  DESCENDING  SLOWLY  THROUGH 

THE  GLIMMERING  GREEN  " 304 


Cbe 

Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 


Gbe  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb 


[N  the  mystic  gloom  and  the  incalculable 
cold  of  the  long  Arctic  night,  when 
Death  seemed  the  only  inhabitant  of 
the  limitless  vasts  of  ice  and  snow,  the  white 
bear  cub  was  born.  Over  the  desolate  expanses 
swept  the  awful  polar  wind,  now  thick  with  fine, 
crystalline  snow  which  volleyed  and  whirled 
and  bit  like  points  of  steel,  now  glassy  clear, 
so  that  the  great,  unwavering  Arctic  stars 
could  preside  un obscured  over  its  destructive 
fury.  When  the  wind  was  still,  not  less  awful 
than  the  wind  had  been  was  the  stillness,  in 
which  the  unspeakable  cold  wrought  secretly 
its  will  upon  the  abandoned  world.  Some- 
times the  implacable  starlight  would  pale 


4          Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

suddenly,  and  the  lovely,  sinister,  spectral  flames 
of  the  aurora,  electric  blue,  and  violet,  and  thin, 
elusive  red,  would  go  dancing  in  terrible  silence 
across  the  arch  of  sky. 

But  the  white  cub  —  contrary  to  the  custom 
of  her  kind  his  mother  had  borne  but  the  one, 
instead  of  two  —  felt  nothing  of  the  cold  and 
the  unutterable  desolation,  saw  nothing  of  the 
unchanging  night,  the  implacable  stars,  the 
heatless  and  mirthless  dancing  flames.  In  a  lair 
between  two  rocks,  under  seven  or  eight  feet  of 
snow,  he  lay  snuggled  against  the  warm,  furry 
body  of  his  mother,  safe  hidden  from  the  world 
of  night  and  cold.  The  mother,  whose  hot  breath- 
ing kept  open  a  little  arched  hollow  in  the  shelter- 
ing snow,  spent  practically  all  her  time  in  sleep, 
the  ample  layers  of  fat  which  the  previous  summer 
had  stored  upon  her  ribs  supplying  food  and  fuel 
to  her  giant  frame.  The  cub,  too,  slept  away 
most  of  the  long  unvarying  hours,  waking  to 
nurse  from  time  to  time,  and  growing  with  mar- 
vellous rapidity  on  the  inexhaustible  nourishment 
which  his  mother's  milk  supplied. 

Month  followed  month,  as  the  night  dragged 
slowly  on  toward  spring  and  dawn;  and  still  the 
mother  slept,  growing  thinner  day  T^y  day;  and 


Zlbe  Summons  of  tbe  Hortb  5 

still  the  cub  slept,  and  grew,  and  slept,  day  by 
day  waxing  fatter,  and  larger,  and  stronger  for 
the  great  and  terrible  battle  of  life  which  awaited 
him  beyond  the  threshold  of  the  snow. 

Except  for  the  vast  alternations  of  storm  and 
calm,  of  starlight  and  auroral  radiance,  there 
was  nothing  to  happen  in  that  empty  and  frozen 
world.  Such  life  as  dared  the  cold  and  dark  in 
those  regions  kept  along  the  edges  of  the  sea, 
where  the  great  waters  kept  air-holes  open  through 
the  incumbent  ice.  Thither  frequented  the 
walrus  and  the  seals,  and  there  hunted  stealthily 
the  savage  old  he-bears,  who  were  too  restless  to 
yield  themselves  to  the  long  winter  sleep.  But 
the  wise  mother  had  wandered  far  into  the  inland 
solitudes  before  retiring  for  her  winter  of  sleep 
and  motherhood.  Over  the  place  of  that  safe 
sleep  and  secret  motherhood  no  live  thing  passed, 
all  winter  long,  —  save  once  or  twice  a  small 
white  fox,  who  sniffed  cautiously  at  a  faint, 
menacing  scent  which  stole  up  through  the  hard 
snow,  and  once  or  twice  the  wide,  soundless  wings 
of  a  great  white  Arctic  owl,  winnowing  southward 
to  find  the  vanished  ptarmigan. 

Late  and  lagging  came  the  beginnings  of  the 
dawn,  —  and  then,  much  later,  when  dawn  had 


6          TTbe  Tbaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

grown  into  the  long  day,  the  beginnings  of  the 
Arctic  spring.  Something  called  to  the  heart  of 
the  old  she-bear,  and  she  heard  in  the  deep  of 
her  lair.  Bursting  through  the  softening  and 
decaying  snow,  she  led  her  sturdy  cub  forth  into 
the  white  outer  solitudes,  and  turned  her  steps 
eastward  toward  the  seashore.  She  was  gaunt, 
loose-pelted,  and  unspeakably  hungry;  but  she 
went  slowly,  while  the  cub  learned  the  new  and 
interesting  business  of  using  his  legs. 

Along  the  shore  the  massive  ice  was  still  un- 
broken for  miles  out;  but  where  the  currents 
and  tides  and  storms  had  begun  to  vanquish  it, 
and  the  steel  blue  waves  were  eating  into  it  hour 
by  hour  beneath  the  growing  sunlight,  there 
the  life  of  the  north  was  gathering.  Sea-birds 
clamoured,  and  mated,  and  dived,  and  flew  in 
circles,  or  settled  in  flickering  gray  and  white 
masses  on  every  jutting  promontory  of  black 
rock.  Along  the  blue- white  ice-edge  seals  basked 
and  barked,  their  soft  eyes  keeping  incessant 
watch  against  the  perils  that  always  lurked 
about  them.  Huge  bulks  of  walrus  wallowed 
heavily  in  the  waves,  or  lifted  their  tusked  heads 
menacingly  to  stare  over  the  ice. 

Amid  this  teeming  life,   which  the  returning 


"SOME   INEXPERIENCED   SEAL   HAD   BEEN  FOOLISH   ENOUGH   TO   LIE 
BASKING   CLOSE   BESIDE  AN   ICE-CAKE" 


Summons  ot  tbe  Iftortb  7 

sun  had  brought  back  to  the  ice-fields,  the  old 
she-bear,  with  her  cub  close  at  her  heels,  moved 
craftily.  She  lurked  behind  piled-up  ice-cakes, 
crept  from  shelter  to  shelter,  and  moved  as  noise- 
lessly as  a  wraith  of  snow  on  the  hair-tufted  pads 
of  her  great  feet.  Sometimes  her  tireless  hunting 
was  promptly  rewarded,  particularly  when  some 
inexperienced  seal  had  been  foolish  enough  to 
lie  basking  close  beside  an  ice-cake  large  enough 
to  give  cover  to  the  cunning  hunter.  Sometimes 
her  .sudden  rush  would  take  unawares  a  full-fed 
gannet  half-dozing  on  a  rocky  ledge.  Sometimes  a 
lightning  plunge  and  sweep  of  her  armed  paw 
would  land  a  gleaming  fish  upon  the  ice,  a  pleasant 
variation  to  the  diet  of  red-blooded  seal-meat. 
And  presently,  as  the  long  sunlight  gathered 
warmth,  and  the  brief,  swift  heat  of  the  Arctic 
summer  approached,  rushing  down  upon  the  ice 
as  if  it  knew  how  short  must  be  its  reign,  the 
melting  of  the  snow  on  sheltered  slopes  and 
southward-facing  hollows  uncovered  a  wealth 
of  mosses,  and  lichens,  and  sprouting  roots,  most 
grateful  to  the  bears'  flesh- wearied  palates. 

But  not  always  was  foraging  a  matter  so 
simple.  The  mother  bear  had  two  great  appe- 
tites to  supply,  her  own,  and  that  of  the  vig- 


8          U  be  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

orous  youngster  beside  her,  who  kept  draining 
unremittingly  at  her  sources  of  vitality  and 
strength.  Sometimes  the  seals  were  unusually 
alert  and  shy,  the  birds  vituperative  and  restless, 
and  the  fish  obstinate  in  their  preference  for  the 
waters  far  offshore.  At  such  times,  if  there  were 
no  greening  hollows  near  by,  where  she  might 
make  a  bloodless  banquet,  the  old  bear  would  call 
to  her  aid  those  great  powers  of  swimming  which 
made  her  almost  as  much  at  home  in  the  water 
as  the  seal  itself.  Marking  some  seals  at  rest  by 
the  edge  of  some  far-jutting,  naked  ice-field, 
where  there  was  no  possibility  of  her  creeping 
upon  them  unobserved,  she  would  slip  into  the 
water  in  the  seclusion  of  some  little  cove,  and 
swim  straight  seaward,  swimming  so  low  that 
only  the  tip  of  her  muzzle  was  to  be  seen.  This 
moving  speck  upon  the  waters  was  not  conspicu- 
ous even  to  the  keenest  and  most  suspicious  eyes. 
It  might  pass  for  a  fragment  of  ice  with  seaweed 
frozen  into  it,  or  for  a  bit  of  floating  moss,  save 
for  the  fact  that  it  moved  steadily  through  the 
dancing  of  the  waves,  paying  no  heed  to  tide  or 
wind.  As  the  seals  were  not  expecting  danger 
from  the  direction  of  the  sea,  they  were  not  in- 
clined to  scrutinize  a  thing  so  insignificant  as  that 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb  9 

steadily  moving  speck  among  the  waves.  Arriving 
within  well  calculated  distance  of  the  unsuspecting 
baskers  on  the  ice-field,  the  old  bear  would  fill 
her  lungs,  sink  beneath  the  surface,  and  swim 
forward  with  all  speed.  At  the  very  edge  of  the 
ice  she  would  rise  up,  lunge  forward,  and  strike 
down  with  her  savage  paw  the  nearest  seal,  before 
any  of  them  had  time  to  realize  the  direction  from 
which  death  had  burst  upon  them. 

The  old  bear's  triumph,  however,  was  not 
always  so  complete.  On  one  day  in  particular 
she  was  confronted  by  an  experience  which 
almost  left  her  cub  without  a  mother.  The 
cub,  watching  solicitously  from  behind  a  jagged 
hummock  of  ice,  received  a  lesson  which  never 
faded  from  his  mind.  He  learned  that  in  the 
wilds  one  must  never  let  himself  become  so 
absorbed  in  any  occupation  as  to  forget  to  keep 
a  watchful  eye  for  what  may  be  coming  up  behind 
one's  back. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  lean  days,  when  all  game 
was  wide  awake  and  the  lichen-beds  far  away. 
On  the  jagged  ice  off  the  mouth  of  an  inlet  lay  two 
walrus  calves  sunning  their  round,  glistening 
sides  while  their  mothers  wallowed  and  snorted 
in  the  water  beside  them.  The  old  bear  eyed  the 


io        Ube  -fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

calves  hungrily  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then, 
ostentatiously  turning  her  back  upon  the  scene, 
she  slouched  off  inland  among  the  hummocks 
and  rocks,  the  cub  lurching  along  contentedly 
beside  her. 

Once  hidden  from  the  view  of  the  walruses,  she 
quickened  her  pace  till  the  cub  had  to  struggle 
to  keep  with  her,  swung  around  the  head  of  the 
inlet,  and  crept  stealthily  down  the  other  side 
toward  the  spot  where  the  calves  were  lying. 
The  wind  blew  softly  from  them,  her  padded  feet 
made  no  sound,  and  she  kept  herself  completely 
out  of  sight.  Peering  wrarily  from  behind  a  tilted 
ice-cake,  she  saw  that  one  of  the  cows  had  crawled 
out  of  the  water  and  lain  down  beside  its  calf  for 
a  noonday  doze.  Then  she  drew  her  head  back, 
and  continued  her  careful  stalking  by  nose  and 
ear  alone. 

At  last  she  found  herself  within  rushing  distance. 
Not  thirty  yards  away  she  could  hear  the  loud 
breathing  of  the  drowsy  cow  on  the  ice,  the 
splashing  of  the  one  in  the  water.  Turning  upon 
the  cub,  she  made  him  understand  that  he  was 
to  stay  where  he  was  till  she  was  ready  for  him. 
Then  gathering  all  the  force  of  her  muscles  till 
she  was  like  a  great  bow  bent,  she  shot  forth 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          n 

*  from  her  place  of  hiding  and  rushed  upon  the 
sleepers. 

As  the  white  shape  of  doom  came  down  upon 
them  without  warning,  the  cow  and  one  calf 
awoke  in  intuitive  panic  and  with  astonishing 
and  instantaneous  agility  rolled  off  into  the  water. 
But  the  other  calf  was  not  in  time.  One  sprawling 
struggle  it  made  toward  safety,  and  gave  utterance 
to  one  hoarse  bleat  of  despair,  as  if  it  knew  that 
fate  had  overtaken  it.  Then  a  heavy  stroke 
broke  its  neck;  and  as  its  clumsy  legs  spread  out 
limp  and  unstrung  upon  the  ice  the  bear  clutched  it 
and  started  to  drag  it  back  from  the  water's  edge. 

At  this  moment  she  was  aware  of  a  huge 
lumbering  bulk  crawling  up  upon  the  ice  behind 
her.  She  took  it  for  granted  it  was  the  dead  calf's 
mother,  and  paid  no  heed.  Walrus  cows  she  de- 
spised as  antagonists,  though  as  game  she  held  them 
in  high  consideration.  She  would  attend  to  this 
one  in  a  moment;  and  then  her  larder  would  be 
amply  stocked  for  days. 

An  instant  later,  however,  if  she  had  deigned 
to  look  back,  she  would  have  seen  a  gigantic  gray 
and  brown,  warty-skinned  bulk,  surmounted  by 
a  hideous  face  and  grim,  perpendicular  tusks, 
rearing  itself  on  huge  flippers  just  behind  her. 


12        zrbe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

The  cub,  peering  from  his  hiding-place,  saw  the 
peril  but  did  not  comprehend  it.  The  next 
moment  the  bulk  fell  forward,  crushing  the  bear's 
hind-quarters  to  the  ice,  while  those  long  tusks, 
which,  fortunately  for  her,  had  failed  to  strike 
directly,  tore  a  great  red  gash  across  her  right 
shoulder. 

With  a  grunting  squeal  of  rage  and  pain  the 
bear  writhed  herself  free  of  the  dripping  mass  of 
her  assailant,  and  turned  upon  him  madly.  Blow 
after  blow  she  struck  with  that  terrible  fore  paw 
of  hers,  armed  with  claws  like  steel  chisels.  But 
the  hide  of  the  giant  walrus  was  like  many  thick- 
nesses of  seasoned  leather  for  toughness;  and 
though  she  drew  blood  in  streams  at  every  tearing 
stroke,  she  inflicted  no  .disabling  wound.  His 
little,  deep  eyes  red  with  fury,  the  bull  rearing 
himself  on  his  flippers  and  lunging  forward  with 
awkward  but  irresistible  force,  like  a  toppling 
mountain,  seeking  to  crush  his  enemy  and  at 
the  same  time  catch  her  under  the  terrific  down- 
ward thrust  of  his  tusks.  As  he  fought  he  bellowed 
hoarsely,  and  panted  with  great  windy,  wheezy 
breaths,  while  the  walrus  cows  swam  slowly  up 
and  down  by  the  edge  of  the  ice,  watching  the 
struggle  with  their  small,  impassive  eyes. 


«  SHE  LED  HIM  FARTHER  AND  FARTHER  ACROSS  THE  ICE.' 


TCbe  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          13 

The  old  bear  was  lame  and  aching  from  that 
first  crushing  assault,  and  her  hind-quarters  felt 
almost  useless.  Nevertheless  she  was  much  too 
active  for  her  clumsy  adversary  to  succeed  in 
catching  her  again  at  a  disadvantage.  As  she 
yielded  ground  before  his  blundering  charges 
she  led  him  farther  and  farther  across  the  ice, 
farther  and  farther  from  the  element  wherein 
he  was  at  home  and  invincible.  Had  she  been 
herself  unhurt  she  would  eventually  have  van- 
quished his  ill-directed  valour,  wearing  him  out 
and  at  last  reaching  his  throat.  But  now  she 
found  herself  wearing  out,  with  loss  of  blood 
and  the  anguish  of  her  bruised  hind-quarters. 
As  soon  as  she  realized  that  her  strength  was 
failing,  and  that  presently  she  might  fail  to  avoid 
one  of  her  enemy's  great  sprawling  rushes,  she 
was  seized  with  fear.  What  would  become 
of  the  cub  if  she  were  killed?  She  wheeled 
swiftly,  ran  to  where  the  cub  stood  waiting  and 
whimpering,  nosed  him  solicitously,  and  led 
him  away  through  the  blue  and  sparkling  hum- 
mocks. 

After  this  misadventure  the  mother  bear  did 
no  more  hunting  for  a  week  or  two,  but  kept 
inland  among  the  sunny  valleys,  and  nursed  her 


i4        ttbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

wounds,  and  fed  on  the  young  roots  and  tender 
herbage  which  sprouted  hurriedly  wherever  the 
snow  left  bare  a  patch  of  earth.  On  such  clean 
and  blood-cooling  diet  her  hurts  speedily  healed. 
Then  with  renewed  vigour  and  a  whetted  craving 
for  red  flesh-food,  she  went  back  to  her  keen 
hunting  of  the  seals.  But  the  walruses  she 
haughtily  ignored. 

The  Arctic  summer,  meanwhile,  with  its  per- 
petual sun,  poured  down  upon  the  world  in  swift, 
delicious  heat;  and  the  desolate  world  began  to 
laugh,  with  vivid  greenery  about  the  bubbling 
sources  of  the  springs,  and  sudden  fringes  of 
bloom,  yellow  and  pink,  along  the  edges  of  the 
perpetual  ice,  and  the  painted  fluttering  of  butter- 
flies in  every  southward-sloping  hollow  where 
there  was  earth  enough  to  hold  the  roots  of 
flowers.  The  little  winged  adventurers  would 
sometimes  flit  abroad  over  the  snow,  questing 
perilously  beyond  the  narrow  confines  of  their 
home.  These  rash  wanderers,  as  a  rule,  would  fall 
chilled,  and  die  on  the  snow  before  they  could 
get  back;  and  the  cub,  attracted  by  the  flecks 
of  gay  colour  on  the  expanse  of  gray- white  barren- 
ness, would  run  gleefully  to  snap  them  up  and 
eat  them. 


r 


"WOULD    RUN    GLEEFULLY    TO    SNAP    THEM    UP    AND    EAT    THEM. 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          15 

Throughout  the  summer  the  cub  and  his  mother 
kept  very  much  to  themselves,  seldom  consorting 
with  the  other  bears  which  roamed  the  rocks  and 
floes  or  came  to  the  sunny  valleys  to  feed  on  the 
ephemeral  herbage.  The  cub,  meanwhile,  having 
all  the  nourishment  and  care  that  was  usually 
divided  between  two,  was  growing  swiftly  in 
stature  and  in  the  lore  of  the  north.  With  his 
mother's  example  before  him  he  learned  to  hunt 
seals,  to  creep  up  on  the  dozing  sea-birds,  to 
scoop  the  unwary  fish  from  the  sea,  to  waylay 
the  stupid  hare  or  the  wary  fox.  But  he  was 
peculiarly  averse  to  swimming,  and  never  entered 
the  water  except  under  the  compulsion  of  his 
mother's  firm  paw.  The  wise  old  bear,  knowing 
how  much  his  success  in  the  battle  of  life  must 
depend  on  his  mastery  of  the  water,  would  push 
him  in  from  time  to  time,  and  keep  him  there  in 
spite  of  every  whimpering  protest.  In  this  way 
he  learned  his  needed  lessons.  But  his  preference 
was  all  for  land  hunting,  and  it  was  obvious  that 
only  the  extreme  of  hunger  would  ever  lead  him 
to  follow  the  seals  in  their  own  element.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  since  that  memorable  day  when 
his  mother  had  been  beaten  by  the  great  walrus, 
the  cub  had  grown  to  regard  the  sea  as  the  peculiar 


16        TTbe  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

domain  of  the  walruses,  and  he  felt  a  certain 
diffidence  about  trespassing. 

When  the  summer  was  beginning  to  fade  away 
as  hurriedly  as  it  had  come,  the  cub  was  suddenly 
left  alone  in  his  grim  world.  It  happened  in  this 
way.  On  a  certain  hungry  day,  when  his  mother's 
hunting  had  been  unsuccessful,  the  wind  brought 
over  a  ridge  of  rock  a  pungent  and  ravishing 
smell  of  fresh  blood.  As  cautiously  as  a  cat  the 
old  bear  crept  around  the  ridge,  the  cub  creeping 
at  her  heels.  The  sight  that  met  them  was  one 
they  had  never  seen  before.  Close  at  the  water's 
edge  three  men  were  busy  skinning  and  cutting 
up  a  couple  of  seals.  The  cub  stopped  short. 
A  natural,  inborn  caution  warned  him  that  man 
was  a  dangerous  animal.  But  the  old  bear,  to 
whom  man  was  as  unknown  as  to  her  cub,  had 
her  intuitions  obscured  at  that  moment  by  her 
too  eager  appetite.  Moreover,  she  was  in  a  bad 
temper,  and  felt  that  the  strangers  were  intruders 
upon  her  own  hunting-ground.  They  were  insig- 
nificant-looking intruders,  too,  any  one  of  whom 
she  felt  that  she  could  settle  at  a  single  stroke  of 
her  paw.  A  green  gleam  came  into  her  eyes,  as 
with  narrow,  snaky  head  thrust  forward  and  jaws 
half-parted  savagely,  she  stalked  down  upon  the 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IWortb          17 

group,  expecting  to  see  it  scatter  at  her  approach 
and  leave  her  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  prey. 

As  she  drew  near  the  men  stopped  work,  stood 
up,  and  stared  at  her.  For  a  moment  they  did 
nothing.  Then,  seeing  that  she  meant  business, 
two  of  them  stepped  aside  and  picked  up  what 
looked  to  her  like  two  long  sticks,  which  glinted 
in  the  sun.  One  man  took  a  stride  forward  and 
pointed  the  stick  at  her  in  a  way  which  seemed 
like  a  challenge.  With  a  grunt  of  anger  she 
charged  straight  at  him. 

From  the  point  of  the  stick  burst  a  flash  and 
a  roar,  with  a  little  puff  of  blue  smoke  that  drifted 
off  like  a  ghost  over  the  waves.  It  might  have 
been  the  ghost  of  the  old  bear  herself,  fading 
reluctantly  back  into  the  grim  and  desolate 
earth  from  which  she  had  sprung;  for  at  the 
instant  of  its  appearing  she  plunged  forward 
upon  her  nose  and  lay  motionless,  with  a  bullet 
through  her  brain. 

It  was  a  perfect  shot;  but  the  man  who  had 
made  it  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  In  a  few 
moments  the  limp  and  warm  body  was  being 
treated  like  that  of  the  seal,  for  the  pelt  was  a 
fine  one  and  fresh  bear-meat  was  a  delicacy  not 
to  be  despised  by  Arctic  travellers.  But  the  cub 


is         Ube  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

was  not  a  witness  of  this  red  work  of  the  shambles. 
When  he  saw  his  mother  fall  he  shrank  back  in 
overwhelming  terror  behind  the  rocks,  then 
turned  and  ran  with  all  his  might  till  he  could 
run  no  longer.  Finding  himself  in  a  little  sheltered 
valley  -where  he  and  his  mother  had  often  fed 
together  on  the  sweet  herbage,  he  crouched 
down  under  a  rock  and  lay  shivering  for  hours, 
afraid  even  to  whimper. 

At  first  the  white  cub  suffered  torments  of 
loneliness  and  vague  fear;  but  presently  the 
more  insistent  torments  of  hunger  gave  him  for- 
getfulness  of  his  loss,  and  in  hunting  for  his  meals 
he  gradually  got  himself  adjusted  to  the  new 
conditions.  Naturally  keen-witted  and  adaptable, 
he  prospered, 'and  when  the  approach  of  the  long 
Arctic  night  began  to  throw  its  shadows  over 
the  ice  and  rocks  his  ribs  were  well  covered  with 
fat.  When  the  herbage  in  the  little  valleys  was 
all  frozen  to  stone  and  sealed  away  under  the 
first  hard-driven  snow,  he  yielded  to  a  drowsiness 
which  had  been  creeping  into  his  nerves.  With 
this  drowsiness  came  a  stirring  of  vague  memory, 
and  he  turned  his  steps  farther  inland,  far  beyond 
the  roar  of  waves  and  grinding  floes,  till  he  reached 
a  place  of  tumbled  rock,  and  cleft  ravine,  and 


Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          19 

imperishable  ice.  This  was  the  place  where  he 
had  been  born;  and  here,  in  the  very  same  shel- 
tered crevice,  he  curled  himself  up  for  his  winter's 
sleep.  He  was  no  more  than  fairly  asleep,  when 
the  snow  fell  thick  with  the  first  of  the  unbroken 
night,  and  covered  him  away  securely. 


Through  the  months  of  dark,  and  storm,  and 
ghostly,  dancing  lights,  and  immeasurable  cold, 
the  cub  slept  unstirring,  and  grew  in  his  sleep. 
But  when  he  woke,  at  the  very  first  hint  of  awaking 
spring,  he  was  wide  awake  all  at  once,  and  fiercely 
hungry.  Fiercely  he  burst  out  from  the  sheltering 
snow,  and  shook  himself,  and  hurried  through 
the  mystic  glimmer  of  dawn  to  the  seashore, 
where  he  hoped  to  find  the  seals. 

He  was  trusting  partly  to  memory,  partly  to 
instinct;  but  he  did  not  know  that  this  year  he 
was  a  little  ahead  of  the  season.  The  ice  inshore 
was  still  unbroken,  and  the  journey  to  open 
water  was  leagues  longer  than  he  had  anticipated. 
His  cunning  sharpened  by  his  appetite,  he  stalked 
and  killed  an  unwary  seal  beside  its  blow-hole, 
and  lay  there  among  the  tumbled  hummocks 


20        Ube  tJaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

for  some  days,  alternately  eating  and  sleeping. 
Then,  his  strength  and  craft  and  self-reliance 
increasing  hourly,  he  pressed  forward  league 
upon  league,  under  the  ethereal,  bubble-tinted, 
lonely  Arctic  morning,  seeking  the  open  sea. 

When,  at  last,  he  heard  the  waves  breaking 
along  the  blue  ice  brink,  and  the  clamour  of  the 
sea-fowl,  and  the  barking  of  the  seals,  he  felt  that 
he  had  come  home  again.  He  forgot  the  solid 
land,  here  upon  what  seemed  as  solid  as  any  land. 
He  forgot  the  little  inland  valleys,  where  presently 
the  snow  would  be  melting  and  the  tender  grasses 
beginning  to  sprout.  Here  was  good  hunting, 
and  easy;  and  here  he  stayed,  making  his  lair 
among  the  up-tilted  ice-floes,  till  the  yellow  and 
blue  glory  of  full  day  was  pouring  over  the  waste. 

It  happened  that  year  that  no  storms  came  to 
shatter  and  eat  away  the  ice-fields  along  their 
outer  edges.  Only  the  tides  and  the  slow  assault 
of  the  sun  did  their  work;  and  presently  a  vast 
area  of  unbroken  ice  parted  from  the  land  and 
went  drifting  southward  in  the  grip  of  the  polar 
current. 

For  days  the  young  bear  was  quite  unaware  of 
this  accident.  The  ice-field  was  too  vast  and  too 
solid  for  its  motion  to  convey  any  warning.  The 


Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          21 

sea-birds,  of  course,  knew  all  about  it;  and  in  a 
few  days  they  disappeared,  requiring  solid  ground 
for  their  nesting  business.  As  for  the  seals,  if 
they  knew  they  didn't  care,  holding  the  ice  safer 
for  their  domestic  arrangements  than  the  peril- 
ous and  hostile  shore.  The  young  bear  found 
good  hunting.  No  storms  came  to  vex  him. 
And  the  warmth  of  summer  fairly  rushed  to 
meet  him.  For  several  weeks  he  was  altogether 
content. 

Meanwhile  the  sun  and  the  sea  were  making 
inroads  upon  the  strength  of  the  ice-field.  One 
day  when  the  bear  was  prowling  along  its  edges, 
a  mass  of  perhaps  a  quarter-acre  in  area  broke 
off,  lurching  on  the  long  swell.  Astonished  and 
a  little  alarmed,  the  bear  hurried  across,  swam 
the  narrow  but  rapidly  widening  strait,  and 
clambered  out  upon  the  main  field.  The  incident 
in  some  way  stirred  up  a  latent  instinct,  and  he 
became  uneasy.  Setting  his  pace  northward  and 
landward,  he  stalked  straight  ahead  for  hours,  — 
and  where  he  expected  a  familiar  ridge  of  rocks 
he  came  upon  open  sea.  Much  disturbed,  he 
kept  on  his  vain  search  for  land,  forgetting  to  eat, 
and  soon  had  circumnavigated  his  voyaging  do- 
main. There  was  no  land  anywhere  to  swim  to. 


22         Ube  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  accept  the 
situation  with  such  composure  as  he  could  com- 
mand. The  seals  were  still  with  him,  and  he  was 
not  compelled  to  go  hungry. 

Then  came  a  storm,  with  blinding  flurries  of 
snow  out  of  the  north,  and  huge  waves  piling 
upon  the  weakened  ice;  and  the  field  began  to 
break  up.  The  seals  fled  away  from  the  turmoil. 
Frantic  with  terror,  the  bear  was  again  and  again 
overwhelmed  among  the  warring  floes,  and  only 
by  sheer  miracle  of  good  luck  escaped  being 
crushed.  Clever  swimmer  that  he  was,  again  and 
again  he  succeeded  in  crawling  out  upon  a  larger 
floe,  ploughing  its  way  more  steadily  through  the 
tumult.  But  every  such  refuge  went  to  pieces 
after  a  time,  crumbling  into  chaos  under  the 
shocks  of  pounding  wave  and  battering  ice.  At 
last,  and  not  too  soon,  when  his  young  courage 
was  almost  worn  out  and  his  young  strength  all 
but  gone,  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  gain  a  particu- 
larly tough  and  massive  floe  which  withstood  all 
the  storm's  assaults.  It  was  almost  a  young  berg 
in  its  dimensions  and  solidity;  and  in  its  centre, 
crouched  in  a  crevice,  the  bear  felt,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  uproar  began,  something  like  a 
sense  of  security. 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          23 

The  drift  of  the  current  had  by  this  time  carried 
the  ice  so  far  south  that  the  unchanging  light 
of  the  Arctic  day  was  left  behind.  Each  night, 
for  a  little  while,  the  sun  dipped  from  sight  below 
the  naked  horizon.  For  three  days  the  great 
floe  voyaged  on  through  unrelenting  storm, 
riding  down  the  lesser  ice-cakes,  and  taking  the 
waves  with  ponderous  lurch  and  slide.  Little 
by  little  the  lesser  ice  disappeared,  till  the  great 
floe  rode  alone.  Then  the  wind  died  down;  and 
last  of  all  the  waves  subsided.  And  the  bear 
found  himself  sailing  a  steel-blue,  sparkling, 
empty  sea,  under  a  cloudless  sky  and  a  sun  that 
burned  with  a  warmth  he  had  never  known. 

It  was  now  came  the  terrific  trial  of  hunger 
to  the  young  bear.  For  days  together  he  had  no 
taste  of  food,  no  comfort  to  his  throat  but  the 
licking  of  the  ice  and  lapping  of  the  fresh  water 
in  the  pools.  Once  only  did  he  taste  meat,  — 
a  blundering  gannet  which  alighted  within  a 
foot  of  his  motionless  head  and  never  knew 
the  lightning  doom  that  smote  it.  This  made 
one  meal;  but  no  more  birds  came,  and  no 
seals  appeared,  and  no  fish  came  near  enough 
for  the  bear  to  have  any  hope  of  striking  them. 
Day  by  day  he  grew  thinner  and  weaker,  till  it 


24        Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

was  an  effort  to  climb  the  slopes  of  icy  domain; 
and  day  by  day  the  floe  diminished,  till  it  grew 
to  be  a  race  between  the  ice  and  the  animal,  as  to 
which  should  first  fade  back  into  the  elements. 

But  here  fate  intervened  to  stop  this  unnatural 
rivalry.  By  this  time  the  ice  had  drifted  down 
into  the  track  of  occasional  ships;  and  one  day, 
as  a  tramp  steamer  was  passing  near  the  floe, 
some  one  on  deck  discerned  the  crouching  bear. 
The  sea  was  calm,  and  the  captain  in  a  mood  of 
leisure;  so  a  boat  was  lowered  and  the  crew  set 
out  for  a  bear  hunt. 

Having  heard  much  of  the  ferocity  of  the  polar 
bear,  the  men  went  well  armed  and  full  of  excite- 
ment. But  the  reception  which  they  met  dis- 
armed them.  Too  hopeless  for  fear,  or  hate,  or 
wonder,  the  despairing  animal  turned  upon  them 
a  look  of  faint  appeal  which  they  could  not  mis- 
understand. With  a  not  unnatural  distrust  of 
such  amenability  they  lightly  bound  and  muzzled 
him,  and  took  him  aboard  ship.  There  the  cook 
admitted  him  to  his  special  favour,  gave  him  a 
little  warm  broth,  and  gradually,  by  careful  diet- 
ing, coaxed  him  back  to  health. 

The  young  bear,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  him- 
self, became  the  admiration  of  the  whole  ship's 


"SOME   ONE    ON    DECK    DISCERNED   THE   CROUCHING   BEAR.' 


Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          25 

company.  His  coat  was  rich  and  fine,  its  white- 
ness tinged  with  a  faint  golden  dye.  His  teeth 
and  claws  were  perfect,  and  in  the  small,  inscru- 
table eyes  with  which  he  followed  the  business 
of  the  ship  gleamed  an  unusual  intelligence. 
Nevertheless,  though  he  showed  no  ill-temper, 
no  one,  not  even  his  kind  attendant  the  cook, 
could  penetrate  his  impregnable  reserve.  To  each 
individual  who  approached  him  he  showed  com- 
plete indifference,  while,  on  the  contrary,  his 
interest  in  whatever  was  going  on  seemed  unfail- 
ing. Chained  to  an  iron  stanchion  near  the 
galley,  he  would  stand  swaying  from  side  to  side 
and  swinging  his  narrow,  snakelike  head  for  hours. 
But  nothing  that  took  place,  alow  or  aloft,  es- 
caped his  keen  observation.  His  indifference 
was  plainly  not  stupidity,  so  every  one  on  the  ship, 
from  the  captain  down,  regarded  him  with  vast 
respect.  When  at  length,  after  a  quiet  voyage, 
the  ship  reached  port,  this  respect  was  enhanced 
by  the  price  which  he  commanded  from  the 
directors  of  the  zoological  gardens. 

Now  began  for  the  young  bear  a  life  which, 
after  the  first  annoying  novelty  of  it  had  worn 
off,  almost  broke  his  spirit  by  its  cramped  monot- 
ony. His  iron  cage  was  spacious,  —  for  a  cage,  — 


26        Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

arid  built  under  the  shadow  of  a  leaning  rock; 
and  a  spring-fed  pool  at  the  base  of  the  rock  kept 
the  heat  of  the  southern  summer  from  growing 
utterly  intolerable.  But  the  staring,  grinning 
crowds  which  passed  endlessly  before  the  bars  of 
his  cage  filled  him  with  weary  rage;  and  day  by 
day  a  fiercer  homesickness  clutched  at  his  heart. 
The  food  which  his  keeper  gave  him  he  ate  greedily 
enough,  but  through  some  inexplicable  caprice 
he  scorned  the  peanuts  which  the  crowd  kept 
throwing  to  him  through  the  bars.  He  saw  the 
other  bears,  in  neighbouring  cages,  devour  these 
small,  dry  things  and  beg  for  more ;  but  he  would 
have  none  of  them.  He  was  ceaselessly  irritated, 
too,  by  the  noisy  sparrows  which  would  flit  im- 
pudently within  a  foot  of  his  nose;  and  once  in 
a  while  the  stroke  of  his  inescapable  paw  would 
descend  upon  one  of  them,  easing  for  the  moment 
his  sense  of  injury.  Such  small  trophies  he  would 
eat  with  a  relish  which  the  choicest  of  his  jailers' 
gifts  could  not  excite.  The  only  moments  when 
his  homesick  heart  could  even  pretend  to  forget 
its  longing  for  the  desolate  spaces,  the  lifeless 
rock  ridges,  the  little,  snow-rimmed  flower  valleys, 
and  the  call  of  the  eternal  ice,  were  when,  in  the 
solitary  lilac-gray  of  dawn,  he  wallowed  unob- 


Ube  Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          27 

served  in  his  sweetly  chilly  pool,  and  dreamed 
that  the  barking  of  the  seals  from  their  tank 
across  the  garden  was  the  authentic  voice  of  his 
lost  home.  But  the  coming  of  the  first  drowsy 
attendants  would  shatter  this  illusion,  and  send 
him  back  under  his  rock  to  stand  sullenly  swaying 
and  swinging  his  head  all  day. 

In  this  way  the  summer  dragged  along,  and 
then  the  fine,  dry  fall;  and  instead  of  becoming 
reconciled  the  young  bear  grew  more  moody. 
His  appetite  began  to  fail  and  his  fine  coat  lose 
its  live,  elastic  quality.  The  keepers  were  dis- 
appointed in  him.  At  first  they  had  expected 
to  win  him  over  easily,  because  of  his  apparent 
amenableness  and  that  look  of  intelligence  in  his 
eyes.  But  now  they  gave  him  up  as  an  irrecon- 
cilable, and  set  themselves  to  keep  him  from 
pining  away. 

When  winter  came  with  raw  rains,  and  sleet; 
and  some  sharp  frosts,  the  exile  sniffed  the  air 
hopefully  for  a  few  days,  then  relapsed  into  a 
deeper  gloom.  Then  came  a  flurry  of  snow.  As 
the  great  flakes  fell  about  him  he  grew  wild  with 
excitement,  running  with  uplift  head  about  his 
cage,  plunging  in  and  out  of  the  pool,  and  rearing 
himself  against  the  bars  in  a  sort  of  play.  While 


28         Ube  1?aunrers  of  tbe  Silences 

the  flurry  lasted  he  saw  no  one,  and  forgot  to  eat. 
But  in  a  day  this  tender  snow  had  vanished,  and 
he  found  no  sufficient  consolation  in  the  thin  ice 
which  came  afterward  to  encrust  the  edges  of 
his  pool.  He  seemed  to  feel  himself  cheated  in 
his  dearest  hopes,  and  grew  more  obstinately 
dejected  than  ever;  till  finally  came  days  when 
nothing  would  persuade  him  from  the  deepest 
corner  of  his  den.  Some  of  the  attendants  thought 
this  meant  no  more  than  the  drowsiness  which, 
in  his  own  home,  might  precede  the  desire  for 
hibernation.  But  one,  more  understanding  of 
the  wild  kindreds  than  the  rest",  declared  that 
it  was  the  very  disease  of  homesickness,  and  that 
the  exile  was  eating  his  own  heart  out  for  desire 
of  his  frozen  north. 

The  city  of  the  young  bear's  exile  was  not  so 
far  south  but  that  sometimes,  once  in  a  long 
while,  it  found  itself  in  the  track  of  a  wandering 
northern  blizzard.  One  day,  with  terrific  sud- 
denness, on  the  heels  of  a  gusty  thaw,  such  a 
blizzard  came.  In  half  an  hour  the  pool  was 
frozen  and  a  fine  snow  was  drifting  in  fierce 
whirls  about  the  cage. 

The  unhappy  bear  lifted  his  head  and  looked 
forth  from  his  den.  But  he  was  not  going  to  let 


Summons  of  tbe  IRortb          29 

himself  again  be  cheated.  He  had  no  faith  in 
this  alien  storm;  and  turning  his  back  upon  it, 
he  once  more  buried  his  nose  between  his  paws. 

Meanwhile  the  cold  deepened  swiftly ;  the  wind 
grew  savage  and  shrieked  over  the  cages  and  the 
roofs ;  and  the  snow,  dry  and  hard  like  the  driven 
needles  of  the  Arctic  night,  thickened  so  that  one 
could  not  see  ten  paces  before  his  nose.  Through 
the  throbbing  drift  the  attendants  went  hurrying 
about  the  open  cages,  fixing  shelter  for  the  animals 
that  needed  it.  The  cold,  the  savage  noises  of 
the  wind,  the  sharp  buffets  of  snow  that  struck 
into  his  den,  at  last  brought  the  bear  to  his  feet. 
He  turned  slowly,  and  came  out  into  the  storm. 

He  found  himself,  now,  actually  alone,  and  in 
what  seemed  almost  his  own  world.  This  storm 
was  convincing.  He  could  not  refuse  to  believe 
in  the  icy  driven  crystals  which  cut  so  deliciously 
upon  his  tongue  and  against  his  open  jaws.  This 
was  really  snow,  that  whirled  and  heaped  about 
him.  This  was  really  ice,  which  crashed  about 
him  as  he  plunged  in  and  out  of  his  pool.  Around 
and  around  his  cage  he  romped,  biting  the  snow 
in  ecstasy,  rolling  in  it,  breathing  it,  whimpering 
to  it.  When  his  keeper  came  and  looked  in  at  him 
with  wonder,  and  spoke  to  him  with  sympathetic 


30         Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

comprehension,  he  neither  saw  nor  heard.  To  his 
eyes  the  storm  was  volleying  over  the  illimitable 
fields  of  the  ice.  In  his  ears  the  raving  of  the 
wind  held  the  crash  of  grinding  floes.  To  his 
heart  it  was  the  summons  of  the  north,  —  and 
suddenly  his  heart  answered.  He  stood  still, 
with  a  strange  bewilderment  in  his  eyes,  as  if 
transfixed  by  some  kind  of  tremendous  shock. 
Then  he  swayed  on  his  legs ;  and  sank  in  a  lifeless 
heap  by  the  drifted  brink  of  his  pool. 


Xast  Barrier 


[N  a  circular  hollow  in  the  clean,  bright 
gravel  of  the  river-bar  the  tiny  egg 
of  the  great  Quahdavic  salmon  stirred 
to  life.  For  months  it  had  lain  there  among 
its  thousands  of  fellows,  with  the  clear,  cold, 
unsullied  current  streaming  over  it  ceaselessly. 
Through  the  autumn  the  wilderness  sunshine 
and  the  bracing  wilderness  air,  playing  on 
the  unshaded  shallows  of  the  wide  stream, 
had  kept  the  water  highly  vitalized,  —  though 
this  was  hardly  necessary  in  that  pure  and  spring- 
fed  current.  When  the  savage  northern  winter 
closed  down  upon  the  high  valley  of  the  Quahdavic 
it  found  difficulty  in  freezing  the  swift  current 
that  ran  rippling  over  the  bar;  and  when,  at 
last,  the  frost  conquered,  gripping  and  clutching 
through  the  long,  windless  nights,  it  was  to  form 
only  a  thin  armour  of  transparent,  steel-strong 
31 


32         Ube  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

ice,  through  which,  as  through  the  mantle  of 
snow  which  made  haste  to  cover  it,  the  light  still 
filtered  softly  but  radiantly  at  noon,  with  an 
ethereal  cobalt  tinge. 

The  bar  on  which  the  parent  salmon  had 
hollowed  their  round  gravel  nest  was  far  up  the 
Great  South  Branch  of  the  Quahdavic,  not  many 
miles  from  the  little  cold  spring  lake  that  was 
its  source.  The  Great  South  Branch  w^as  a  stream 
much  loved  by  the  salmon,  for  its  deep  pools,  its 
fine  gravel  spawning-beds,  the  purity  and  steady 
coldness  of  its  current,  and  the  remoteness  which 
protected  it  from  the  visits  of  greedy  poachers. 
In  all  its  course  there  was  but  one  serious  obstruc- 
tion, namely,  the  Big  Falls,  where  the  stream  fell 
about  twelve  feet  in  one  pitch,  then  roared  down 
for  half  a  mile  over  a  succession  of  low  ledges 
with  deep  pools  between.  The  Falls  were  such 
that  vigorous  fish  had  no  real  trouble  in  surmount- 
ing them.  But  they  inexorably  weeded  out  the 
weaklings.  No  feeble  salmon  ever  got  to  the  top 
of  that  straight  and  thunderous  pitch.  Therefore, 
as  the  spawning-bars  were  all  above  the  Falls,  it 
was  a  fine,  long-finned,  clean  swimming  breed  of 
salmon  that  was  bred  in  the  Great  South  Branch. 

When  the  tiny  egg  in  the  gravel  stirred  to  life,  — 


Ube  Xast  Barrier  33 

as  the  thousands  of  other  tiny  eggs  about  it  were 
doing  at  the  same  time,  —  there  was  no  ice  sheet 
imprisoning  the  current,  which  ran  singing  pleas- 
antly under  a  soft  spring  sun.  The  deep  hollow 
in  the  gravel  sheltered  the  moving  atoms,  so  that 
they  were  not  swept  away  by  the  current  stream- 
ing over  them.  But  minute  as  they  were,  they 
speedily  gathered  a  strength  altogether  miraculous 
for  their  size,  as  they  absorbed  the  clinging  sacs 
of  egg-substance  and  assumed  the  forms  of  fish, 
almost  microscopic,  but  perfect.  This  advance 
achieved,  they  began  to  venture  from  behind  and 
beneath  the  sheltering  pebbles,  to  dare  the  urgent 
stream,  and  to  work  their  way  shoreward  toward 
shallower  waters  where  the  perils  which  beset 
young  salmon  would  be  fewer  and  less  insistent. 

The  egg  from  which  he  came  having  been  one 
of  the  first  to  hatch,  the  tiny  salmon  mentioned 
in  the  opening  paragraph  was  one  of  the  first  of 
the  host  to  find  his  strength  and  to  start  the 
migration  shoreward  from  the  nest  on  the  noisy 
bar.  Perhaps  a  score  started  with  him,  trying 
the  current,  darting  back  to  shelter,  then  more 
boldly  venturing  again.  A  passing  trout,  hungry 
and  fierce-eyed,  darted  above  them,  heading  up 
against  the  current ;  but  being  so  few  and  scattered, 


34        Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

they  escaped  his  fatal  attentions.  Terrified, 
however,  by  the  sudden  shadow,  they  hid  in  the 
gravel  and  for  some  time  made  no  further  trial  of 
the  dangerous  world. 

When  again  the  salmon  atom  adventured 
forth,  he  found  himself  in  a  greater  company. 
Hundreds  more  of  the  tiny  creatures  had  left  the 
nest  and  were  moving  shoreward  with  him.  As 
the  defenceless  throng  advanced,  he  saw  a  couple 
of  what  seemed  to  him  gigantic  creatures  dashing 
hither  and  thither  among  them,  snapping  them 
up  greedily  by  twos  and  threes;  and  he  himself 
barely  escaped  those  greedy  jaws  by  shooting 
forward  in  the  nick  of  time.  These  seeming 
monsters  were  but  young  redfins,  a  couple  of 
inches  in  length,  whom  he  would  soon  come  to 
despise  and  chase  from  his  feeding-grounds. 

His  superior  development  and  speed  having  so 
well  served  him,  he  was  now  a  foot  or  more  in 
advance  of  the  throng,  and  so  escaped  another 
and  even  more  wide-ranging  peril.  A  huge 
shadow,  as  vast  as  that  of  the  trout,  swept  down 
upon  them,  and  as  he  shrank  beneath  a  sharp- 
edged  stone  he  saw  a  big  sucker  settle  lazily 
where  the  thronging  fry  were  thickest.  With 
round,  horribly  dilating  and  contracting  mouth 


Ube  %ast  JSarrier  35 

turned  down  like  an  inverted  snout,  the  big  fish 
sucked  up  the  little  wrigglers  greedily,  even  draw- 
ing them  out  by  his  power  of  suction  from  their 
hidings  in  the  gravel.  Of  the  hundreds  that  had 
started 'on  the  first  migration  from  the  nest  not 
more  than  three  score  were  left  to  follow  their 
frightened  and  panting  mite  of  a  leader  into  the 
shallows  where  the  big  sucker  could  not  come. 

Among  the  little  stones  close  to  shore,  where 
the  water  was  hardly  more  than  an  inch  deep, 
even  the  greedy  young  redfins  would  not  venture. 
Nevertheless  there  were  plenty  of  enemies  waiting 
eagerly  for  the  coming  of  the  fry,  and  the  little 
fellow  whose  one  hour  of  seniority  had  made  him 
the  pioneer  of  the  shoal  found  all  his  ability  taxed 
to  guard  the  speck  of  life  which  he  had  so  lately 
achieved.  Keeping  far  enough  from  shore  to 
avoid  being  stranded  by  some  whimsical  ripple, 
he  nevertheless  avoided  the  depths  that  were 
sufficient  for  the  free  hunting  of  the  predatory 
minnows  and  redfins.  Such  of  his  kinsfolk  as 
stayed  farther  out  soon  served,  the  greater 
number  of  them,  as  food  for  the  larger  river 
dwellers,  while  those  who  went  too  close  in- 
shore got  cast  up  on  the  sand  to  die,  or  were 
pounced  upon,  as  they  lay  close  to  the  surface, 


36         Ube  Uaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

by  ravenous  and  unerring  mosquitoes,  which 
managed  to  pierce  them  even  through  a  film  of 
water  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch  or  more  in  thickness. 
So  it  came  about  in  a  -very  brief  time  that  of  the 
countless  throng  emerging  from  the  nest  on  the 
bar  there  remained  but  a  hundred  or  so  of  the 
tiny  fry  to  sustain  the  fortunes  of  that  particular 
salmon  family. 

Even  at  the  safest  and  most  cunningly  chosen 
depth,  however,  the  little  pioneer  had  plenty  of 
perils  to  guard  against.  Secure  from  the  suckers 
and  redfins  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  the  mos- 
quitoes on  the  other,  he  had  yet  for  enemies 
certain  predatory  larvae  and  water-beetles,  as 
well  as  a  few  inch-long  youngsters  of  the  trout 
family,  who  were  very  active  and  rapacious. 
There  was  a  water-beetle  with  hooked,  pincer-like 
jaws  and  lightning  rapidity  of  movement,  which 
kept  him  almost  ceaselessly  on  the  alert,  and 
filled  him  with  wholesome  terror  as  he  saw  it 
capture  and  devour  numbers  of  his  less  nimble  or 
less  wary  kin.  And  one  day,  when  he  had  chanced, 
in  the  company  of  his  diminished  school  of  fry, 
to  drift  into  a  shallow  cove  where  there  was  no 
current  at  all  to  disturb  the  water,  he  was  chased 
by  the  terrible  larva  of  a  dragon-fly.  The  strange- 


ZTbe  Xast  Carrier  37 

looking  creature,  with  what  seemed  a  blank, 
featureless  mask  where  its  face  and  jaws  ought 
to  be,  darted  at  him  under  the  propulsion  of  jets 
of  water  sucked  into  its  middle  and  spurted  out 
behind.  Having  taken  alarm  in  time,  he  made 
good  his  escape  between  the  stalks  of  a  fine  water- 
weed  where  the  big  larva  could  not  penetrate. 
From  this  retreat  he  saw  his  pursuer  turn  and 
pounce  upon  a  small  basking  minnow.  The  mask 
that  covered  the  larva's  face  shot  out  as  if  on  a 
hinge,  developed  into  two  powerful,  grappling 
claws,  and  clutched  the  victim  in  the  belly. 
After  a  brief  struggle,  which  terrified  all  the  tiny 
creatures  within  a  radius  of  three  feet,  the  minnow 
was  dragged  down  to  a  clump  of  weed  and  the 
victor  proceeded  to  make  his  feast.  The  little 
salmon  stole  in  terror  from  his  hiding-place  and 
darted  out  into  the  more  strenuous  but  for  him 
far  safer  waters  where  a  live  current  stirred  among 
the  gravel.  To  be  sure  the  beetles  were  there,  and 
the  hungry  young  trout;  but  he  had  learned  the 
ways  of  both  these  species  of  foe  and  knew  pretty 
well  how  to  elude  them.  Meanwhile,  as  he  was 
himself  continually  busy  catching  and  devouring 
the  tiny  forms  of  life  which  abounded  in  those 
fruitful  waters,  —  minute  shell-fish,  and  the  spawn 


38         Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

of  the  water-snails  that  clung  under  the  stones, 
gnats,  and  other  small  insects  that  fell  on  the 
water,  and  even  other  fry  just  from  the  egg,  — 
he  was  growing  at  such  a  rate  that  presently  the 
fierce  water-beetles  and  the  baby  trout  ceased  to 
have  any  terrors  for  him.  And  at  last,  turning 
savagely  as  one  of  his  old  tormentors  passed  by, 
he  caught  a  small  beetle  between  his  jaws  and 
proceeded  to  make  a  meal  of  him.  A  few  days 
later  one  of  the  baby  trout  was  too  slow  in  getting 
out  of  his  way.  He  made  a  rush,  caught  his  former 
tyrant,  and,  though  the  latter  was  more  than  an 
inch  long,  found  no  difficulty  in  swallowing  him 
head  first. 

By  this  time  the  little  salmon  was  between  two 
and  three  inches  long.  He  was  what  those  learned 
in  matters  pertaining  to  the  salmon  would  have 
called  a  ' '  parr. ' '  His  colouring  was  very  beautiful, 
in  a  higher  key  than  the  colouring  of  a  trout,  and 
more  brilliant,  if  less  showy.  There  was  none  of 
the  pink  of  the  trout,  but  a  clear  silvery  tone  on 
sides  and  belly,  with  a  shining  blue-black  along 
the  back.  The  sides  were  marked  with  a  row  of 
black  dots,  set  far  apart  and  accentuated  by  a 
yellow  flush  around  them,  and  with  another  row 
of  spots  of  most  vivid  scarlet.  Along  the  sides 


TTbe  Xast  Barrier  30 

also  ran  a  series  of  broad,  vertical,  bluish  gray 
bars,  the  badge  of  the  young  of  all  the  salmon 
tribe.  He  was  a  slender,  strong-finned,  finely 
moulded  little  fish,  built  to  have  his  dwelling  in 
swift  currents  and  to  conquer  turbulent  rapids. 
His  jaws  were  strong  and  large,  and  he  had  no 
reason  to  fear  anything  of  his  size  that  swam  the 
river. 

There  were  now  not  more  than  two  score  of  his 
brothers  and  sisters  left  alive,  and  these  scattered 
far  and  wide  over  the  shoaling  stream.  It  was 
high  summer  in  the  Quahdavic  country,  and  the 
Great  South  Branch  was  beginning  to  show  its 
ledges  and  sandy  bars  above  water.  Deep  green 
the  full-leaved  boughs  of  elm  and  ash,  poplar  and 
cedar  leaned  above  the  current;  and  along  the 
little  wild-meadows  which  here  and  there  bordered 
the  stream,  where  the  lumbermen  had  had  camps 
or  "  landings,"  the  misty  pink-purple  blossoms 
of  the  milkweed  poured  a  wild  sweetness  upon 
the  air.  In  a  shallow  run  near  the  shore,  where 
the  sunlight,  falling  through  an  overhanging 
cedar  "  sweeper,"  dappled  the  clear  ripples,  and 
the  current  was  about  eight  inches  deep,  and 
there  was  no  pool  near  to  tempt  the  larger  fish, 
the  active  and  wary  little  parr  took  up  his 


40          tlbe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

home.  The  same  run  was  chosen  by  three  of  his 
fellows  also,  and  by  a  couple  of  small  trout  of 
about  the  same  size.  But  there  was  room  enough, 
and  food  enough,  in  that  run  for  all  of  them,  so 
the  association  was  harmonious. 

Lying  with  his  head  up-stream,  his  long  fins  and 
broad  tail  slowly  waving  to  hold  him  in  his  position 
against  the  current,  the  little  parr  waited  and 
watched  while  his  food  was  brought  down  to  him 
by  the  untiring  flow.  Sometimes  it  was  a  luckless 
leaf -grub,  or  a  caddis- worm  torn  from  his  moorings, 
that  came  tumbling  and  bumping  down  along  the 
smooth  pebbles  of  the  bottom,  to  be  gathered 
into  the  young  salmon's  eager  maw.  Sometimes  it 
was  a  fly  or  moth  or  bee  or  beetle  that  came  bob- 
bing with  drenched,  helpless  wings  along  the  tops 
of  the  ripples.  And  once  in  awhile  a  pink-shelled 
baby  crawfish  in  its  wanderings  would  come 
sidling  across  the  run,  and  be  promptly  gobbled 
up  in  spite  of  the  futile  threatenings  of  its  tiny 
claws.  The  river  was  liberal  in  its  providing  for 
its  most  favoured  children,  these  aristocratic  and 
beautiful  parr,  so  the  youngster  grew  apace  in 
his  bright  run. 

Happy  though  his  life  was  now,  in  every  kind 
of  weather,  he  was  still  beset  with  perils.  He  had, 


Ube  Xast  JSarrter  41 

of  course,  no  longer  anything  to  fear  from  the 
journeying  suckers,  with  their  small,  toothless 
mouths,  but  now  and  then  a  big-mouthed,  red- 
bellied,  savage  trout  would  pass  up  the  run,  and 
in  passing  make  a  dash  at  one  of  the  little  occu- 
pants. In  this  way  two  of  the  parr,  and  one  of 
the  little  trout,  disappeared,  —  the  trout  folk 
having  no  prejudice  whatever  against  cannibalism. 
But  our  pioneer,  ceaselessly  on  the  watch  and 
matchlessly  nimble,  always  succeeded  in  keeping 
well  out  of  the  way.  Once  he  had  a  horrible  scare, 
when  a  seven-pound  salmon,  astray  from  the 
main  channel,  made  his  way  cautiously  up  the 
middle  of  the  run  and  scraped  over  the  bar.  In 
this  case,  however,  the  alarm  was  groundless. 
The  stranger  was  not  seeking  food,  but  only  a 
way  out  of  the  embarrassing  shallows. 

Another  peril  that  kept  the  young  parr  on 
the  alert  —  an  ever  imminent  and  particularly 
appalling  peril  —  was  the  foraging  of  the  king- 
fishers. A  pair  of  these  noisy  and  diligent  birds 
had  their  nest  of  six  little  ones  in  a  hole  in  the  red 
bluff  just  above  the  run,  and  they  took  ceaseless 
tribute  from  the  finny  tribes  of  the  river.  Like 
an  azure  arrow  one  of  them  would  dart  down  into 
the  river  with  a  loud  splash,  and  flap  up  again, 


42        Ube  Ifoaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

usually,  with  a  gleaming  trout  or  parr  held  firmly 
between  the  edges  of  his  great  beak.  If  he  missed 
his  shot  and  came  up  with  empty  beak,  he  would 
fly  off  up  the  river  with  a  harsh,  clattering,  start- 
lingly  loud  cry  of  indignation  and  protest.  Several 
times  one  or  other  of  these  troublesome  foragers 
dropped  into  the  run.  The  dappling  of  the  shadow 
and  sun,  however,  from  the  cedar,  was  a  protection 
to  the  dwellers  in  this  run;  and  only  twice  was 
the  fishing  there  successful.  The  second  little 
trout,  and  one  more  of  the  parr,  were  carried  off. 
Then  the  birds  forsook  that  particular  bit  of 
ripple  and  hunted  easier  waters. 

In  leaping  at  the  flies  which  came  down  the 
surface  of  the  run  the  little  salmon  one  day  got  a 
severe  but  invaluable  lesson.  A  large  and  gaudy 
fly,  unlike  anything  that  he  had  ever  encountered 
before,  appeared  on  the  ripples  over  his  head. 
Still  more  unlike  those  which  he  had  encountered 
before,  it  did  not  hurry  downward  with  the  water, 
but  maintained  its  position  in  a  most  mysterious 
fashion.  While  the  parr  eyed  it  curiously,  wonder- 
ing whether  to  try  it  or  not,  it  suddenly  moved 
straight  up  against  the  current,  and  was  followed 
at  a  short  distance  by  another  queer-looking  big 
fly,  green  and  brown  like  a  grasshopper.  Excited 


HELD    FIRMLY     BETWEEN    THE    EDGES     OF    HIS    GREAT    BEAK." 


Xast  ^Barrier  43 

by  the  strange  behaviour  of  these  two  strangers, 
the  parr  rose  sharply  and  hit  the  green  fly  with 
his  tail,  intending  to  drown  it  and  investigate 
it  at  his  leisure.  To  his  astonishment  both 
flies  instantly  disappeared.  Chagrined  and  puz- 
zled, he  dropped  back  to  the  tail  of  the  run,  sulk- 
ing. 

A  moment  later,  however,  the  two  flies  reap- 
peared, slipping  very  slowly  down  the  current, 
mounting  up  again  directly  in  the  teeth  of  it, 
sometimes  dancing  on  the  surface,  sometimes 
sinking  a  little  below  it,  but  always  remaining  the 
same  distance  apart,  and  always  behaving  in  a 
manner  mysteriously  independent  of  the  power 
of  the  stream.  For  a  few  seconds  the  parr  eyed 
them  with  distrust.  Then  growing  excited  by 
their  strange  actions,  he  dashed  forward  fiercely 
and  caught  the  gaudy  red  fly  in  his  jaws.  There 
was  a  prick,  a  twitch,  a  frightful  jerk,  —  and  he 
found  himself  dragged  forth  into  the  strangling 
upper  air,  where  he  fell  flopping  on  the  dry  gravel 
of  the  shore. 

As  he  lay  gasping  and  struggling  on  the  hot 
pebbles,  which  scorched  off  the  delicate  bloom 
from  his  tender  skin,  a  tall  shape  stooped  over 
him,  and  a  great  hand,  its  fingers  as  long  as  his 


44        Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Stlences 

whole  body,  picked  him  up.  He  heard  a  vague 
reverberation,  which  was  the  voice  of  the  tall 
shape  saying,  "  A  poor  little  beggar  of  a 
salmon,  —  but  not  badly  hooked!  He'll  be  none 
the  worse,  and  perhaps  none  the  wiser!  "  Then, 
with  what  seemed  to  him  terrible  and  deadly 
violence,  but  what  was  really  the  most  careful 
delicacy  that  the  big  hand  was  capable  of,  the 
hook  was  removed  from  his  jaw,  and  he  was  tossed 
back  into  the  water.  Dizzy  and  half -stunned,  he 
turned  over  on  his  back,  head  downward,  and  for 
a  moment  or  two  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  current. 
Then,  recovering  from  the  shock,  he  righted 
himself,  and  swam  frantically  to  the  shelter  of  an 
overhanging  stone  which  he  knew,  where  he  lay 
with  heaving  sides,  sore,  aching,  and  trembling, 
till  little  by  little  his  self-possession  returned  to 
him.  But  ever  afterward,  since  he  was  by  nature 
somewhat  more  wary  and  alert  than  his  fellows, 
he  viewed  floating  flies  with  suspicion  and  in- 
spected them  cautiously  before  seizing  them  in 
his  jaws. 

All  through  the  summer  and  autumn  the  little 
parr  was  kept  very  busy,  feeding,  and  dodging 
his  enemies,  and  playing  in  the  cheerful,  shallow 
"  run "  beneath  the  cedar.  When  the  early 


LEAPING    HIGH    OUT    OF    THE    POOLS." 


Ube  Xast  Barrier  45 

autumn  rains  swelled  the  volume  of  the  Great 
South  Branch,  he  first  realized  how  numerous  were 
the  big  salmon  in  the  stream, —  fish  which  had  kept 
carefully  clear  of  the  shallow  places  wherein  he 
had  spent  the  summer.  .Though  he  held  himself 
well  aloof  from  these  big  fish,  —  which  never  paid 
him  any  attention,  —  he  noticed  them  playing 
tempestuously,  leaping  high  out  of  the  pools, 
and  very  busy  night  and  morning  on  the  gravel 
bars,  where  they  seemed  to  be  digging  with  their 
powerful  snouts. 

Still  later,  when,  instead  of  flies  and  beetles, 
there  fell  upon  the  darkening  surface  of  the  river 
little  pale  specks  which  vanished  as  he  snatched 
at  them,  he  grew  fiercely  and  inexplicably  dis- 
contented. What  he  longed  for  he  did  not  know ; 
but  he  knew  it  was  nowhere  in  the  waters  about 
him,  neither  along  the  edges  of  the  shore,  where 
now  the  ice  was  forming  in  crisp  fringes.  All 
about  him  he  saw  the  big  salmon,  —  their  sides 
lean  and  flat,  their  brilliant  colours  darkened  and 
faded,  —  swimming  down  languidly  with  the 
strenuous  current.  Hitherto  their  movements 
had  been  all  up-stream,  —  upward,  upward  in- 
cessantly and  gladly.  Now  the  old  energy  and 
joy  of  life  seemed  all  gone  out  of  them.  Never- 


46        Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

theless,  they  seemed  very  anxious  to  go  somewhere, 
and  the  way  to  that  somewhere  appeared  to  be 
down-stream.  Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  and 
not  at  all  knowing  why  he  did  it,  the  parr  found 
himself  slipping  down-stream  with  them.  He 
had  grown  vastly  in  size  and  strength,  while  his 
vivid  and  varied  hues  had  begun  to  soften  appre- 
ciably. In  fact,  he  was  now  no  longer  a  parr,  but 
a  "  smelt;  "  and  after  the  ordained  custom  of 
his  kind,  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  sea. 


Long-finned  and  full  of  vigour,  the  smelt  was 
not  dismayed  when  he  came  to  heavier  water, 
exchanging  the  region  of  the  gravelly  bars  for  a 
space  of  broken  ledges,  where  the  great  current 
roared  hither  and  thither  and  lashed  itself  into 
foam.  Through  these  loud  chutes  and  miniature 
falls  he  shot  safely,  though  not  at  first  without 
some  trepidation.  The  lean,  slab-sided  salmon, 
or  "  slinks,"  who  were  his  travelling  companions, 
served  as  his  involuntary  guides.  Except  to 
make  use  of  them  in  this  way  once  or  twice,  he 
paid  them  little  attention ;  though  now  and  again 
a  big  lantern- jawed  fellow  would  rush  at  him 


Ube  Xast  ^Barrier  47 

with  a  sort  of  half-hearted  fury,  compelling  him 
to  make  a  hurried  retreat. 

The  Great  South  Branch,  soon  after  the  region 
of  the  wild  ledges  was  past,  fell  into  quiet  ways, 
and  crept  for  a  few  miles  with  deep,  untroubled 
current  through  a  land  of  alders.  Here  the  winter, 
which  had  by  this  time  settled  down  upon  the 
high  Quahdavic  country,  had  its  will,  and  the 
river  was  frozen  and  snow-covered  from  shore  to 
shore.  The  smelt,  as  he  journeyed  beneath  the 
ice,  was  puzzled  and  disturbed  by  the  unusual 
dimness  of  the  light  that  filtered  down  to  him. 

This  was  a  condition,  however,  which  he  soon 
left  behind.  Swollen  by  the  influx  of  several 
lesser  streams,  the  Great  South  now  burst  its  fetters 
and  thundered  along  through  a  series  of  tumul- 
tuous rapids.  Then  above  the  thunder  of  these 
rapids  came  a  louder,  heavier  roar,  a  trampling 
whose  vibration  carried  a  warning  to  the  traveller. 
He  paused  for  a  moment;  but  seeing  that  the 
salmon  swam  on  without  hesitation  or  apparent 
misgiving,  he  dashed  forward  confidently  into 
the  tumult.  A  moment  more  and  he  was  hurled 
onwrard  bewilderingly,  dashed  downward  through 
a  smother  of  broken  water  which  held  so  much 
air  in  it  that  it  almost  choked  him,  and  shot  into 


48          Ube  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

a  great,  deep,  swirling  pool  where  many  "  slinks  " 
and  a  few  slim  smelts  like  himself  were  swimming 
lazily  hither  and  thither.  He  had  successfully 
made  the  descent  of  the  South  Branch  Falls, 
though,  in  his  ignorance  of  the  best  channel,  he 
had  missed  the  solid  water,  and  come  down 
through  the  smother. 

After  a  very  brief  rest  in  the  basin  below  the 
Falls,  to  recover  his  self-possession,  the  smelt, 
with  many  other  migrants,  resumed  his  seaward 
journey.  The  Great  South  presently,  with  a  long 
rush,  united  its  waters  with  those  of  the  main 
Quahdavic.  Down  this  full-flowing  stream  he 
swam  steadily  for  three  uneventful  days,  to  find 
himself  at  length  in  a  mighty  river  whose  amber- 
brown  current  was  a  surprise  to  him  after  the 
clear,  greenish  floods  in  which  he  had  been  born. 
It  took  him  several  days,  journeying  leisurely, 
and  feeding  moderately  as  he  went,  to  get  accus- 
tomed to  the  change  in  the  water.  And  barely 
had  he  become  accustomed  to  it  when  another 
and  more  startling  change  confronted  him.  The 
current,  flowing  strongly  in  one  direction,  would 
change  for  a  time  and  flow  directly  against  him. 
This  was  confusing.  But  it  was  not  by  any  means 
the  worst.  A  strange,  bitter  taste  was  in  the 


%ast  Barrier  49 

water.  The  great  salt  tides  were  rushing  up  to 
\velcome  him.  He  was  nearing  the  sea. 

At  first  the  brackishness  in  the  water  repelled 
him;  but  almost  at  once  he  found  himself  accept- 
ing it  with  avidity.  At  the  same  time  he  could 
not  but  observe  a  sudden  awakening  of  interest 
in  life  among  the  languid  "  slinks."  They  began 
to  show  a  better  appetite,  to  move  about  more 
alertly,  to  make  themselves  more  dangerous  to 
the  smaller  fish  that  crossed  their  paths.  The 
water  grew  more  and  more  salt,  —  with  an  ever 
increasing  zest  to  it  which  made  the  smelt  amaz- 
ingly keen  for  his  food.  Then  the  shield  of  ice 
above  him,  beneath  which  he  had  so  long  travelled, 
suddenly  vanished,  and  through  long,  free  shore- 
less waves  he  felt  the  sunlight  streaming  down 
to  him  unimpeded.  The  water  was  now  no  longer 
tawny  brown,  but  green.  He  had  reached  the 
sea. 

For  some  reason  which  he  could  never  have 
explained,  —  for  he  certainly  felt  no  affection 
for  them,  —  the  smelt,  with  others  like  himself, 
kept  travelling  more  or  less  in  the  company  of  the 
reviving  "  slinks."  Like  all  the  rest  of  the  strong- 
finned,  silver-sided  host,  he  was  now  feeding  with 
a  ravenousness  of  appetite  unknown  to  him  in  the 


so         TTbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

old  days  of  rapid  and  pool.  His  food  was  chiefly 
the  very  tiny  creatures  of  the  sea,  shell-fish  from 
the  deep-covered  rocks  and  floating  masses  of 
weed,  young  fry  swimming  in  schools,  jellyfish 
of  various  sorts,  and  the  myriad  minute  sea  things 
which  made  certain  belts  and  patches  of  the  sea, 
at  times,  almost  like  a  kind  of  soup  ready  to  his 
eager  palate.  Ever  north  and  north  swam  the 
silver  host,  seeking  those  cold  currents  from  the 
pole  which  are  as  thick  with  life  as  the  lands  they 
wash  are  lifeless.  Very  deep  they  swam,  so  deep 
that,  countless  as  their  armies  were,  they  left  no 
trace  to  betray  them  to  the  nets  or  hooks  of  the 
fishing  fleets.  In  those  faintly  glimmering  depths 
the  slow  tide  stirred  softly,  unmoved  by  whatever 
Arctic  storm  might  rave  and  shrink  over  its  sur- 
face. In  the  gloom  the  tiny  creatures  of  the  sea 
shone  by  their  own  pale  phosphorescence,  and  in 
such  unimaginable  millions  did  they  swarm  that 
the  journeying  salmon  had  but  to  open  their 
mouths  to  be  fed.  At  this  depth,  too,  they  had 
but  little  persecution  from  the  more  swift  and 
powerful  hunters  of  the  sea,  the  big-mouthed 
whales,  the  sharks,  and  the  porpoises.  Their  most 
dangerous  enemies  generally  lived  and  fought 
and  ravaged  nearer  the  surface,  leaving  to  them 


Ube  Xast  Barrier  51 

the  lordship  of  the  twilight  deeps.  Once  in 
awhile,  indeed,  a  sounding  whale  might  drop  its 
mighty  bulk  among  them,  and  engulf  a  few  scores 
in  his  huge  maw  before  the  pressure  and  the  need 
of  air  forced  him  again  to  the  surface.  And  once 
in  awhile  a  shark  or  swordfish  would  rush  down, 
as  a  hawk  swoops  from  the  upper  sky,  to  harry 
their  array.  But  for  the  most  part  now,  as  at  no 
other  period  in  their  career,  they  went  unmolested 
on  their  secret  and  mysterious  northern  drift. 

When  the  young  salmon  had  been  about  three 
months  in  the  sea,  growing  diligently  all  the  time, 
a  strange  but  potent  influence  impelled  him,  along 
with  most  of  his  companioning  hordes,  to  turn 
and  journey  backward  toward  the  coast  whence 
he  had  come.  He  was  now  about  five  pounds  in 
weight,  and  if  he  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a 
fisherman  he  would  have  been  labelled  a  "  grilse." 
His  companions  were  nearly  all  grilse  like  himself, 
varying  in  weight  from  two  and  a  half  to  four  or 
five  pounds,  with  here  and  there  a  big,  adult 
salmon  journeying  majestically  among  them. 
The  majority  of  the  full-grown  salmon  had  pre- 
ceded them  shoreward  by  anything  from  one 
month  to  four,  under  the  urge  of  the  homing  and 
parental  instinct. 


52         TOe  haunters  of  tbe  Silences 

As  the  big  grilse  journeyed  he  went  on  growing 
daily,  till  by  the  time  he  found  himself  back  in  the 
waters  of  the  Gulf  he  was  a  good  six  pounds  in 
weight.  As  he  mounted  nearer  the  surface  and 
drew  inshore  he  passed  the  mouths  of  various 
rivers  and  encountered  swirling  currents  of  brack- 
ish water.  At  each  of  these  river-mouths  numbers 
of  the  host  would  separate  and  turn  up  the  freshen- 
ing tide.  But  our  grilse  kept  right  on,  making 
unerringly  for  his  mighty  native  stream.  And 
those  that  continued  with  him  were  more  in 
number  than  those  that  turned  aside. 

It  was  during  this  journey  down  off-shore  that 
perils  once  more  began  to  assail  the  young  salmon, 
perils  which  it  took  all  his  good  luck  and  keen 
activities  to  evade.  For  one  thing,  there  were 
dogfish.  These  miniature  sharks,  with  their 
savage  mouths  set  far  under  their  snouts,  were  no 
match  for  the  grilse,  or  any  of  his  kind,  in  speed ; 
but  the  latter,  being  unsuspicious,  came  very 
near  being  caught  unawares.  A  swift  surge  of 
his  long  fins  and  powerful  tail  saved  him,  just  in 
time.  He  shot  away  like  a  silver  streak  as  the 
fierce  jaws  snapped  sharply  at  his  flank.  After 
that  he  kept  his  eyes  alert  on  the  approach  of  any 
fish  in  the  least  degree  larger  than  himself.  And 


%ast  Barrier  53 

in  the  course  of  this  watchfulness  he  saw  many  of 
his  kinsmen  caught  and  torn  to  pieces  by  the 
ravening  dogfish,  who  are  the  very  wolves  of  the 
sea. 

Another  and  equally  deadly  peril  was  one  that 
took  several  forms.  Once  as  he  swam  swiftly 
but  easily  onward,  he  saw  a  number  of  his  com- 
panions, who  chanced  to  be  a  little  ahead  of  him, 
stop  abruptly  and  engage  in  what  seemed  to 
him  a  meaningless  struggle.  Ever  suspicious, 
he  checked  himself  and  tried  to  make  out  what 
was  the  matter.  The  struggle  was  desperate,  but 
the  adversary  at  first  invisible.  In  a  moment, 
however,  he  detected  a  mesh  of  fine,  brown  lines, 
which  seemed  to  surround  and  grapple  with  the 
unfortunate  fish.  Not  waiting  to  investigate 
further,  he  retreated  with  a  nervous  flurry  of 
speed.  Then,  since  nothing  could  divert  his 
homeward  impulse,  he  dived  almost  to  the  bottom 
and  continued  his  journey,  not  returning  toward 
the  dangerous  surface  till  he  was  nearly  a  mile 
beyond  the  throttling  peril  of  the  drift-net.  But 
there  were  yet  other  nets,  and  as  he  entered  the 
great  outrush  of  his  native  river  he  encountered 
them  on  every  side,  stretched  on  rows  of  stakes 
running  far  out  into  the  channels.  These  "  set 


54         ITbe  t>aunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

nets,"  as  they  were  termed,  he  was  fortunate 
enough,  or  wary  enough,  to  detect  when  he  first 
entered  the  river,  and  he  avoided  them  by  keeping 
to  the  deepest  parts  of  the  channel;  but  he  saw 
what  cruel  toll  they  took  of  the  eager  and  heedless 
schools  that  swam  with  him.  Net  after  net  they 
threatened  him;  but  ever  upward  he  urged  his 
way  against  the  tawny  current,  his  long  fins  and 
powerful  tail  never  pausing  in  their  graceful, 
tireless  effort.  Neither  he  nor  his  companions 
now  lost  time  in  foraging,  for  their  appetite  had 
mysteriously  vanished  since  leaving  the  salt 
water.  They  had  become  engrossed  in  one  idea, 
the  quest  of  the  clean-rushing  rapids  and  the  beds 
of  bright  gravel  where  they  were  born. 

Leagues  up  the  great  river,  after  mounting 
several  noisy  but  not  difficult  rapids,  the  grilse 
came  to  a  halt  for  the  first  time  in  a  deep  and 
spacious  pool  which  swarmed  with  his  fellows. 
Here  he  rested,  and  here  he  made  light,  casual 
meals,  jumping  at  the  little  flies  which  fell  upon 
the  swirling  surface  of  the  pool.  Once  the  bright 
yellow  body  of  a  struggling  wasp  allured  him,  — 
but  just  as  he  was  rising  to  gulp  it  in,  a  memory, 
vague  but  terrifying,  swung  dimly  up  into  his 
brain  from  the  far-off  days  when  he  had  been 


Ube  %ast  Barrier  55 

a  tiny,  gay-coloured  parr  in  the  ripples  of  the 
Great  South  Branch.  He  remembered  the  sharp 
point  piercing  his  jaw,  his  choking  and  gasping 
on  the  hot,  dry  bank;  and  refusing  the  bright 
titbit,  he  left  it  to  be  gobbled  up  by  one  of  his  less 
wary  companions.  After  that  revival  of  memory 
the  crafty  grilse  inspected  every  fly  before  he  rose 
to  it,  to  see  if  any  slender,  almost  invisible  line 
were  attached  to  it.  His  precautions  were  un- 
necessary, in  that  instance,  the  pool  being  a  lonely 
and  unnoted  one  in  a  broad,  shallow  reach  of  the 
river;  but  his  awakened  watchfulness  was  to 
stand  him  in  good  stead  later  on. 

A  day's  journey  beyond  the  pool,  a  great  out- 
rush  of  colder  water,  green-white  against  the 
amber  tide  of  the  main  river,  greeted  the  returning 
grilse,  and  he  found  himself  in  the  mouth  of  his 
native  Quahdavic.  It  was  a  scanter  and  shallower 
stream,  however,  than  when  he  left  it,  for  now 
the  long  heats  of  the  summer  had  shrunken  all 
the  watercourses.  As  he  mounted  the  clear 
current  he  now  encountered  fierce  rapids,  and 
ledges  boiling  with  foam,  which  put  his  swimming 
prowess  to  the  test.  After  a  day  of  these  rapids 
and  ledges  and  shallow  rips,  he  felt  quite  ready 
to  halt  once  more  in  a  great  green  pool  where 


56         Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

two  lively  brooks,  tumbling  in  from  either  shore, 
kept  the  surface  flecked  with  whirling  foam. 
Here  the  invigorating  coolness  of  the  water 
speedily  refreshed  him,  and  he  fell  to  feeding 
on  the  various  insects  brought  down  by  the 
meeting  currents.  The  pool  was  thronged  with 
grilse  and  full-grown  salmon,  with  here  and  there 
a  school  of  graceful  whitefish  or  a  group  of  slug- 
gish suckers,  whom  he  ignored.  When  the  moon 
rose  white  over  the  black,  serried  masses  of  the 
fir  woods,  silvering  the  pool,  the  big  grilse,  obeying 
a  sudden  caprice,  shot  upwards  with  a  mighty 
surge  of  fins  and  tail,  and  hurled  himself  high 
into  the  still  air.  Falling  back  with  a  resounding 
splash,  he  repeated  the  feat  again  and  again.  He 
had  discovered  the  fascination  of  diving  upward 
into  the  unknown  and  alien  element  of  the  air. 
Others  of  his  kindred,  large  and  small,  had  made 
the  same  discovery,  and  the  wilderness  silence 
was  broken  with  splash  after  splash,  as  the  tense, 
silver  shapes  shot  up,  gleamed  for  an  instant, 
and  fell  back.  As  the  noise  of  the  mysterious 
play  echoed  on  the  night  air,  a  black  bear  crept 
down  to  the  water's  edge  on  one  side  of  the 
stream,  and  a  lynx  stole  out  to  the  end  of 
a  log  on  the  other  side,  each  hoping  that  some 


U  be  Xast  JSarrier  57 

unwary  player  might  come  within  reach  of 
his  paw.  But  all  the  salmon  kept  out  in  the  safe 
deeps;  and  the  keen-eyed  watchers  watched  in 
vain  as  the  round  moon  climbed  the  clean  heights 
of  sky. 

After  a  few  days  in  this  pool,  he  was  surprised 
one  early  morning  by  the  sight  of  a  long,  dark 
shape  gliding  over  the  surface.  From  its  side, 
near  the  hinder  end,  a  strange-looking,  narrow 
fin  thrust  downward  from  time  to  time,  and  with 
heavy  swirls  propelled  the  dark  shape.  The 
strange  apparition  disturbed  him,  and  he  grew 
restless  and  watchful.  A  few  minutes  after  it  had 
passed  there  came  a  faint  splash  on  the  surface 
above  him,  and  a  big,  curious-looking  fly  ap- 
peared. It  sank  an  inch  or  two,  moved  against 
the  current,  and  was  then  withdrawn.  He  eyed 
it  with  scorn,  remembering  his  former  experience 
with  such.  But  when,  a  moment  later,  the  strange 
fly  appeared  again,  he  was  amazed  to  see  one  of 
the  biggest  salmon  in  the  pool  rise  lazily  and 
suck  it  down.  The  next  instant  there  was  a 
terrific  commotion.  He  saw  the  great  fish  rush 
hither  and  thither  up  and  down  and  around  the 
pool,  now  scattering  the  whitefish  on  the  bottom, 
now  splashing  upon  the  surface  and  leaping  half 


$8        Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

his  length  into  the  air.  Very  clearly  the  cunning 
grilse  understood  what  it  all  meant.  For  many 
long  minutes  he  watched  the  struggle,  which 
showed  no  sign  of  ending.  Then  disgusted  and 
apprehensive,  he  forsook  the  pool,  darting  be- 
neath the  canoe  as  he  did  so,  and  continued  his 
journey  up-stream. 

Late  in  the  day  the  returning  traveller  came 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Big  South  Branch.  Without 
hesitation  he  turned  up  that  turbulent  but 
shrunken  stream,  knowing  it  for  his  own;  and  he 
made  no  stop  till  he  reached  the  deep,  green, 
foamy  pool  at  the  foot  of  the  Falls.  Being  still 
comparatively  fresh,  and  very  restless,  he  swam 
all  round  the  pool,  and  took  a  crafty  survey  of  the 
terrific  obstacle  before  him.  But  among  the 
sojourners  in  the  pool  were  many  fish  with  bleeding 
sides,  who  had  essayed  the  leap  in  vain  and  were 
waiting  to  recuperate  their  energies  for  another 
effort.  So  he,  too,  paused  a  little,  gathering  his 
young  strength. 

The  Falls  of  the  Big  South  were  about  twelve 
feet  in  total  height.  There  were  two  leaps,  the 
upper  one,  of  about  three  feet,  rolling  down  into 
a  hollow  shelf  of  sandstone  some  six  or  eight  feet 
in  width,  and  the  lower,  dropping  nine  feet  sheer 


11  VANQUISHED    IN    THEIR    OWN    ELEMENT    BY    THE    MINK." 


TTbe  Xast  Barrier  59 

into  the  pool.  Most  of  the  face  of  fall,  at  this 
stage  of  the  water,  was  lashed  into  foam  by 
fissures  and  projecting  angles  of  rock,  but  on  the 
right  the  main  volume  of  the  stream  fell  in  a 
clear,  green  column.  Up  the  front  of  this  column 
the  grilse  presently  flung  himself,  striking  the 
water  about  a  foot  from  the  top.  As  he  struck, 
the  impetus  of  his  leap  not  yet  exhausted,  his 
powerful  fins  and  tail  took  firm  hold  of  the  solid 
water  and  urged  him  upward.  Over  the  lip  he 
shot,  into  the  boiling  turmoil  of  the  shelf,  then 
onward  over  the  great  surge  of  the  upper  dip. 
He  had  triumphed  easily,  and  the  way  was  clear 
before  him  to  the  shining  gravel  bars  whereon 
he  had  been  spawned.  There  were  still  some 
tough  rapids  —  shallow,  and  tortuous,  and  grid- 
ironed  with  slaty  rocks  —  to  be  climbed ;  but 
there  were  quiet  pools  to  sojourn  in,  and  no  perils 
that  his  craft  could  not  evade.  One  by  one  his 
fellow  vovagers  had  dropped  away,  betrayed  by 
the  fisherman's  luring  fly,  clutched  by  the  skilful 
paw  of  wildcat  or  bear,  or  vanquished  in  their 
own  element  by  the  mink  or  the  otter.  But  when 
he  reached  the  wide  spawning-beds  he  was  still 
comraded  by  a  fair  remnant  of  the  host  which  had 
'entered  the  river  with  him;  and  the  shallow  run 


60          Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

that  swept  the  bars  were  noisy  with  their  splash- 
ings  through  the  twilight  of  evening  and  dawn. 

Every  day  there  were  new  arrivals  at  the 
spawning-beds,  and  among  them  the  strong  and 
wary  grilse  soon  found  a  mate.  She  was  consider- 
ably larger  than  he,  a  trim  young  salmon  of  the 
second  year  and  perhaps  nine  pounds  in  weight. 
But  his  radiant  colouring,  his  strength  and  his 
activity,  as  he  swram  around  her  and  displayed  his 
charms,  appeared  to  content  her.  With  his  bony 
nose  he  dug  her  a  circular  nest  in  the  gravel,  where 
the  current  ran  clear  but  not  too  strong;  and  in 
this  nest  she  laid  her  countless  eggs,  while  he 
rubbed  his  side  caressingly  against  her  shining 
flanks.  When  her  eggs  were  all  laid  and  fertilized 
he  drifted  away  from  her,  dropped  down  to  the 
nearest  pool,  and  lay  there  sluggish  and  unin- 
terested for  awhile,  until,  seized  once  more  by  the 
longing  for  the  great  salt  tide,  he  joined  a  return- 
ing company  of  "slinks"  and  hurried  back  down- 
river to  the  sea. 

in 

When  he  reached  the  deep  sea  once  more,  and 
regained  his  appetite  among  the  sweeping  tides, 
he  once  more  began  to  grow.  His  fins  became 


Ube  OLast  Carrier  61 

smaller  in  proportion  to  his  bulk,  and  he  was  no 
longer  a  grilse,  but  a  salmon.  His  life,  however, 
underwent  no  great  change;  his  adventures,  perils, 
interests,  appetites,  were  all  much  the  same  as 
during  his  first  season  in  the  sea.  Only  he  now 
swam  with  a  certain  majesty,  ignoring  the  grilse 
and  smaller  salmon  who  swam  and  fed  beside  him ; 
for  he  was  of  splendid,  constantly  growing  stature, 
of  the  lords  of  his  kind. 

This  time  he  let  nearly  the  whole  round  of  the 
year  go  by,  feeding  at  leisure  and  lazily  dodging 
the  seals,  among  the  icy  but  populous  tides  that 
swung  beyond  the  mouth  of  Hudson  Straits. 
Then,  late  the  following  winter,  long  before  the 
dark  earth  had  any  word  of  spring,  spring  stirred 
secretly  in  his  veins,  and  he  remembered  the 
sunny  gravel  bars  of  the  Great  South  Branch. 
The  sudden  urge  of  his  desire  turned  him  about, 
and  he  began  to  swim  tirelessly  southward,  com- 
panioned by  an  ardent,  silvery  host  into  whose 
veins  at  the  same  time  the  same  compelling  sum- 
mons had  been  flashed. 

It  was  late  May  when  the  returning  salmon, 
having  successfully  eluded  the  snares  of  the  nets 
and  the  assaults  of  harbour  seal  and  dogfish,  came 
again  to  the  mouth  of  his  native  river  and  fanned 


62        Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

his  gills  once  more  in  its  sweet,  amber  current. 
He  was  now  a  good  forty  pounds  in  weight,  and 
his  clean  blue-and-silver  body  was  adorned  with 
fine  markings  of  extraordinary  brilliancy.  His 
vigorous,  wholesome,  seasoned  muscles  propelled 
him  irresistibly  against  the  current  of  the  river, 
which  was  now  fierce  with  freshet;  and  being 
urged  by  a  stronger  and  more  insistent  desire 
than  that  which  had  swayed  him  on  his  former 
visit,  as  a  grilse,  he  now  made  more  haste  in  his 
journeying,  with  briefer  halts  in  the  pools.  The 
pools,  at  this  season,  were  some  of  them  indis- 
tinguishable in  the  flood,  and  others  turbulent 
and  difficult  of  access,  so  the  fly- fishermen  were 
not  yet  out  in  force.  Only  once,  in  the  great  pool 
below  the  Quahdavic  mouth,  did  he  see  the  bright 
fly  whose  treacherous  lure  he  knew  so  well  go 
dancing  over  his  head.  He  rose  lazily  and  slapped 
it  with  his  tail  in  angry  contempt,  then  returned 
to  th^  bottom  of  the  pool  and  watched  it  lazily, 
while  for  nearly  an  hour  it  went  through  its  futile 
antics.  Then  it  vanished  suddenly. 

Perhaps  ten  minutes  after  the  gaudy  fly  had 
disappeared,  the  big  salmon  saw  a  brown  furry 
shape,  more  like  a  very  young  squirrel  than  any- 
thing else,  go  floating  down  the  current.  Other 


TTbe  %ast  Barrier  63 

salmon,  who,  like  himself,  had  ignored  the  fly, 
observed  this  furry  shape  with  interest,  and  half 
started  to  investigate.  But  when  the  big  salmon 
rose  to  it  they  turned  away  with  resignation.  As 
for  him,  though  he  had  not  been  once  really 
hungry  since  entering  the  fresh  water,  he  felt 
that  that  strange  object  was  the  very  thing  he 
wanted.  Gliding  up  to  the  surface  on  a  long  slant, 
very  slowly,  he  opened  his  great  jaws  just  below 
the  object,  sucked  it  in,  and  with  a  heavy  splash 
turned  back  toward  the  bottom.  The  next  instant 
there  was  a  jerk,  a  prick,  a  fierce  tug  at  his  jaw 
which  swerved  him  from  his  course;  and  he 
realized  that  he  had  been  fooled.  The  furry 
shape  was  but  the  old  treason  of  the  fly  in  another 
form. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  rush  madly  across  the 
pool  in  an  effort  to  escape  the  small  tormentor. 
But  memory  and  experience,  added  to  that  native 
cunning  which  had  brought  him  safely  through 
so  many  perils,  now  came  to  his  rescue.  Instead 
of  rushing  to  the  surface  and  performing  wild 
feats  which  would  have  soon  worn  him  out  while 
delighting  the  soul  of  his  enemy,  he  turned  reso- 
lutely back  to  his  course  and  bored  his  way  to  the 
bottom  against  the  exasperating  pressure  of  rod 


64        Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  reel.  Here  he  set  himself  to  nosing  vigorously 
among  the  stones,  in  the  hope  of  rubbing  off  this 
troublesome  thing  on  his  jaw.  The  thing  tugged, 
and  tugged,  and  pricked,  and  worried,  as  the 
fisherman  at  the  other  end  of  the  line  strove  to 
rouse  him  into  a  lively  and  spectacular  struggle. 
But  for  some  minutes  he  refused  to  be  diverted 
from  his  nosing  among  the  stones,  till  the  fisher- 
man began  to  fear  that  the  hook  had  got  fast  to 
a  log. 

Presently,  however,  the  great  salmon  decided 
to  change  his  tactics.  Though  he  did  not  know 
it,  he  had  already  loosened  the  hook  appreciably, 
tearing  the  cartilage  of  his  jaw.  Now,  having 
craftily  eyed  for  some  seconds  the  fine,  taut, 
almost  invisible  line  of  gut  as  it  slanted  off  through 
the  water,  he  made  a  long,  swift  rush  straight  in 
the  direction  in  which  the  line  was  striving  to 
pull  him.  Instantly  the  pull  ceased,  the  line  fell 
slack.  But  he  felt  the  hook,  with  its  furry  attach- 
ment, still  clinging  at  the  side  of  his  mouth.  He 
passed  straight  under  the  dark  shape  of  the  canoe, 
and  heard  a  sharp,  vibrant  sound  above  him, 
something  like  the  song  of  a  locust,  which  was  the 
noise  of  the  big  salmon  reel  as  the  fisherman  made 
wild  haste  to  take  in  the  slack  of  the  line.  As  he 


TTbe  %ast  Barrier  65 

swam  he  shook  his  head  savagely;  but  the  hook 
still  held.  Then,  near  the  farther  edge  of  the 
pool,  he  darted  between  the  limbs  of  a  sunken 
windfall,  and  back  again  on  the  other  side,  effectu- 
ally fouling  the  line  a  few  feet  from  his  nose. 
The  next  moment  there  was  a  violent  jerk  at  his 
jaw.  The  hook  tore  out,  and  he  swam  free. 

In  tremendous  indignation  and  trepidation  the 
great  salmon  now  darted  from  the  pool  and  up 
against  the  wild  current  of  the  Quahdavic.  In 
the  next  pool  he  delayed  for  but  a  few  minutes, 
not  resting,  but  swimming  about  restlessly  and 
stirring  up  the  other  salmon  with  his  excitement. 
Then,  accompanied  by  three  or  four  of  those 
whom  his  nervous  activity  had  aroused,  he  pressed 
onward.  Through  rapid  and  chute  and  pool,  and 
white-churned  trough  where  rocks  scored  the  bed 
of  the  river,  he  darted  tirelessly,  and  up  the  clear 
torrent  of  the  Great  South  Branch ;  and  he  never 
halted  till  he  found  himself  in  the  boiling  basin 
of  green  and  foam  at  the  foot  of  the  Falls. 

The  basin  was  a  very  different  place  now  from 
that  which  he  had  visited  as  a  grilse.  Into  its 
vexed  deeps  the  flood  fell  with  the  heavy  trampling 
of  thunder,  which  was  echoed  back  and  forth 
between  the  high  broken  rocks  enclosing  the  basin. 


66          Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

But  what  was  of  most  importance  to  the  great 
salmon  was  a  fact  which,  if  he  realized  it  at  all,  he 
realized  but  vaguely.  The  Falls  themselves  had 
changed  since  his  last  visit. 

At  the  very  first  of  spring  there  had  been  a 
landslide.  The  great,  partly  overhanging  rock, 
seamed  and  split  by  the  wedges  of  countless  frosts, 
had  all  at  once  crumbled  down  beneath  the  tireless 
pressure  of  the  cataract.  The  lower  fall,  thus 
retreating,  had  become  one  with  the  upper.  The 
straight  descent  was  now  nearly  five  feet  higher 
than  before,  —  a  barrier  which  no  voyager  those 
waters  ever  knew  could  hope  to  overcome. 

The  great  salmon  did  not  understand  what  had 
happened.  He  knew  that  he  had  passed  the  bar- 
rier before,  and  had  come  to  those  bright,  gravelled 
reaches  of  which  he  was  desirous.  He  knew 
that  a  summons  which  he  could  not  disobey  was 
urging  him  on  up-stream.  He  had  no  thought  but 
to  obey.  After  a  short  rest  in  the  deepest  part  of 
the  pool,  —  he  was  alone  there,  being  the  first 
of  the  returning  migrants,  —  he  suddenly  aroused 
himself,  darted  like  a  flash  of  silver  through  the 
green  flood,  and  shot  straight  up  the  face  of  the 
fall.  Within  three  feet  of  the  crest  he  came,  hung 
curved  like  a  bow7 for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  glitter- 


Ube  Xast  Barrier  67 

ing  and  splendid,  then  fell  back  into  the  white 
smother.  Again,  and  yet  again,  he  essayed  the 
leap,  gaining  perhaps  a  foot  on  the  second  trial, 
but  falling  far  short  on  the  third.  Then,  exhausted 
and  beaten  by  the  great  impact  of  the  waters  as 
he  fell  back  defenceless,  he  retired  to  the  quietest 
depth  of  the  pool  to  recover  his  strength.  He  felt 
bewildered  by  his  failure,  and  half  stunned  by  the 
buffeting  of  the  air-charged  flood,  which  affected 
him  somewhat  as  a  tornado  might  affect  a  man 
who  was  fighting  to  make  head  against  it.  More- 
over, there  was  a  long  crimson  gash  slanting  down 
his  flank,  where  he  had  been  driven  against  a 
jagged  rock  as  he  fell. 

Of  all  these  things,  however,  he  thought  little, 
as  he  lay  there  in  the  green  deep  which  seethed 
from  the  turmoil  passing  above  it.  Through 
the  turmoil  he  saw  the  wide,  clean-glittering, 
shallow-rippled  gravel-bars  of  the  upper  stream, 
golden  under  the  sun  and  blue-white  under 
the  moon.  These  he  saw  as  he  remembered 
them,  and  he  saw  the  loud  barrier  to  be  passed 
before  he  could  reach  them.  As  he  brooded, 
his  courage  summoned  back  his  strength.  Again 
he  flashed  up,  with  a  power  and  swiftness  that 
seemed  irresistible,  and  again  he  shot  into  the 


68         ^be  Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

spray-thick  air  on  the  face  of  the  fall.  Again  he 
hung  there  for  a  half  a  heart-beat,  spent,  to  fall 
back  baffled  and  confused.  Again  and  again, 
however,  he  flashed  back  to  the  trial,  undaunted 
in  spirit  though  at  each  effort  his  strength  grew 
less :  again  and  again  the  rock  teeth  hidden  in  the 
foam  caught  and  tore  him  as  he  fell.  At  last,  all 
but  stunned  and  altogether  bewildered,  he  swam 
feebly  into  an  eddy  close  to  shore  and  half  turned 
upon  his  side,  his  gills  opening  and  closing  vio- 
lently. 

Just  about  this  time  a  visitor  from  the  hills  had 
come  shambling  down  to  the  river-edge,  —  one  of 
the  great  black  bears  of  the  Quahdavic  valley. 
Sitting  contemplatively  on  her  haunches,  her 
little,  cunning  eyes  had  watched  the  vain  leaps 
of  the  salmon.  She  knew  a  good  deal  about  salmon 
and  her  watching  was  not  mere  curiosity.  As 
the  efforts  of  the  brave  fish  grew  feebler  and 
feebler  she  drew  down  closer  and  closer  to  the  edge 
of  the  water,  till  it  frothed  about  her  feet.  When, 
at  last,  the  salmon  came  blindly  into  the  eddy 
and  turned  upon  his  side,  the  bear  was  but  a  few 
feet  distant.  She  crept  forward  like  a  cat, 
crouched,  —  and  a  great  black  paw  shot  around 
with  a  clutching  sweep.  Gasping  and  quivering, 


"AGAIN    HE    SHOT   INTO    THE    SPRAY  -  THICK    AIR    ON    THE    FACE   OF 
THE    FALL." 


Ube  Xast  JSarrter  69 

the  salmon  was  thrown  up  upon  the  rocks.  Then 
white  teeth,  savage  but  merciful,  bit  through  the 
back  of  his  neck;  and  unstruggling  he  was  car- 
ried to  a  thicket  above  the  Falls. 


answerers  to  tbe  (Tall 

HE  little  lake,  long  and  narrow,  and  set 
in  a  cleft  of  the  deep  forest,  led  off  like 
a  pathway  of  light  to  the  full  October 
moon.  The  surface  of  the  lake  was  as  still  as 
glass,  and  the  woods,  rising  from  each  shore 
in  dense  waves,  billowy  where  the  hardwoods 
crowded  thick,  or  serrated  and  pinnacled  where 
the  fir  and  spruce  and  hemlock  drew  their 
ordered  ranks,  were  as  motionless  as  if  an 
enchantment  had  been  laid  upon  them.  The 
air  was  magically  clear,  almost  pungent  with  sug- 
gestion of  frost,  and  tonic  with  autumn  scents. 

In  sharp  contrast  to  the  radiance  of  the  open, 
the  deep  of  the  forest  was  filled  with  an  extraordi- 
narily liquid  and  transparent  darkness,  pierced 
with  hard  white  lines  and  spots  of  light  where  the 
moon  broke  through.  Down  along  the  shores  of 
the  lake,  under  the  ragged  fringe  of  mixed  growths 
where  forest  and  open  met,  ran  a  tangle  of  gro- 


Hnswerers  to  tbe  Call  71 

tesque,  exaggerated  shadows,  so  solid  of  outline 
as  to  seem  almost  palpable. 

All  these  shadows  were  as  motionless  as  if 
frozen  —  except  one,  a  long,  angular  shadow, 
which  projected  itself  spasmodically  but  noise- 
lessly through  the  bushes,  occasionally  darting 
out  upon  the  naked  beach,  but  withdrawing 
again  instantly,  as  if  in  dread  of  the  exposure. 
The  source  of  this  erratic  shadow  was  a  lean  back- 
woodsman, who,  rifle  in  hand,  was  stealing  on 
moccasined  feet  down  the  lake  shore  under  cover 
of  the  fringing  branches. 

Suddenly  across  the  water  came  a  sound  as  if 
some  one  were  thrashing  the  underbrush  with  a 
stick.  m  The  hunter  stopped  short,  and  listened 
intently  from  his  place  of  concealment.  Very 
well  he  knew  that  sound.  It  was  a  bull  moose 
eager  for  fight,  thrashing  the  bushes  with  his  great 
antlers  as  a  challenge  to  any  rival  who  might  be 
within  hearing. 

The  woodsman's  grizzled  lips  parted  in  a  smile 
of  satisfaction,  and  after  a  glance  at  his  rifle  to  see 
that  the  cartridge  was  in  place,  he  crept  onward 
down  the  lake,  well  under  cover  and  as  soundless 
as  his  own  shadow.  He  expected  to  come  upon 
the  challenger  somewhere  near  the  foot  of  the 


72         Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

lake.  He  might,  of  course,  have  adopted  a  surer 
and  lazier  method  of  hunting  by  staying  where  he 
was  and  imitating  the  call  of  the  big  moose's 
mate;  but  this  seemed  to  him  gross  treachery, 
and  little  short  of  murder.  He  would  almost  as 
willingly  have  condescended  to  snare  the  noble 
beast  whom  he  gloried  in  overcoming  in  fair  chase. 

The  hunter  had  not  gone  far,  however,  when 
another  strange  sound  disturbed  the  enchanted 
silence.  It  was  harsh,  wild,  yet  appealing,  and 
seemed  in  some  way  the  very  voice  of  the  untamed 
wilderness.  It  was  the  call  of  the  shy  cow  moose. 

The  woodsman  crept  down  to  the  shore  and 
peered  cautiously  through  the  screening  boughs, 
to  see  whether  the  call  was  an  authentic  one  or 
the  cheat  of  some  other  hunter  less  scrupulous 
than  himself. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  shore  a 
bare  sand  spit  jutted  out  into  the  sheen  of  the 
lake ;  and  near  its  point,  an  ungainly  black  silhou- 
ette against  the  bright  water,  stood  the  cow,  call- 
ing, listening,  and  calling  again. 

The  hunter  stood  for  a  few  moments,  watching 
her  with  that  deliberation  which  marks  the  man 
of  the  woods.  As  he  watched,  suddenly  the  cow 
wheeled  half-round,  as  if  startled,  then  dashed 


Hnswerers  to  tbe  Call  73 

into  the  water,  swam  in  haste  to  the  next  point, 
and  vanished  among  the  trees. 

The  woodsman,  much  surprised,  waited  motion- 
less where  he  was  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  to  see 
if  the  cause  of  her  alarm  would  reveal  itself.  Then, 
as  no  sign  of  life  appeared  on  the  brilliantly  lighted 
sand  spit,  he  pressed  on  stealthily  down  the  shore 
to  investigate  for  himself. 

In  a  few  minutes  —  forest  and  lake  meanwhile 
as  still  as  if  no  living  thing  breathed  within  the 
borders  —  the  hunter  found  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  sand  spit.  Keeping  within  the  deep  shadow, 
he  examined  the  ground  carefully,  but  could  detect 
no  trail,  except  that  of  the  cow  which  had  been 
calling.  Puzzled,  and  nettled  to  find  his  wood- 
craft at  fault,  he  continued  his  furtive  progress 
toward  the  foot  of  the  lake. 

He  had  gone  not  more  than  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  when,  just  as  he  was  about  to  step  out  upon 
a  little  lighted  glade,  that  subtle  and  unnamed 
sixth  sense  which  the  men  of  the  woods  sometimes 
develop  warned  him  that  something  alive  and 
hostile  was  hidden  in  the  thicket  just  ahead.  He 
stiffened  in  his  tracks  and  waited,  eyes  and  nostrils 
intently  alert. 

He  was  so  close  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket  that 


74          Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

his  own  concealment  was  very  imperfect.  In  the 
thicket,  just  across  the  lighted  space,  nothing 
stirred ;  but  he  was  sure  that  something  was  there. 
For  fully  five  minutes  he  waited.  Then,  just  to 
see  what  would  happen,  he  gave,  very  softly  and 
alluringly,  the  call  of  the  cow  moose. 

What  happened  was  something  no  previous 
experience  had  taught  him  to  expect.  No  moose 
responded  to  the  supposed  voice  of  its  mate ;  but 
a  huge  black  bear  fairly  bounced  into  the  open, 
and  came  at  him  in  terrific  leaps,  evidently  purpos- 
ing to  catch  the  cow  before  she  could  get  started 
running.  Annoyed,  because  he  was  not  hunting 
bear  and  did  not  want  to  scare  the  game  he  was 
seeking,  the  woodsman  stepped  out  into  the  full 
light  as  he  raised  his  rifle. 

But  he  did  not  have  to  shoot.  If  he  was  not 
hunting  bear,  neither  was  the  bear  hunting  man. 
At  this  unlooked-for  apparition  of  a  man  with  a 
voice  like  a  cow  moose,  the  bear  almost  stopped 
in  mid-jump,  as  if  struck  by  an  explosive  bullet. 
Fairly  falling  over  in  his  desperate  haste  to  stop 
himself,  he  clawed  the  turf  wildly,  wheeled  about, 
and  scuttled  off  into  the  woods  like  a  frightened 
woodchuck.  The  hunter  smiled  grimly,  and  went 
on.  He  knew  now  what  had  startled  the  cow  moose. 


SCUTTLED    OFF    INTO    THE     WOODS    LIKE 
A    FRIGHTENED     WOODCHUCK." 


Hnswerers  to  tfoe  Call  75 

For 'nearly  half  an  hour  the  great  white  moon 
seemed  to  possess  the  world  alone.  At  the  foot 
of  the  lake  the  hunter  had  to  appear  in  the  shining 
open  for  a  second  or  two,  while  crossing  the  shallow 
but  wide  brook  which  formed  the  outlet.  But  he 
drifted  across  from  stone  to  stone  like  a  shadow, 
marked,  as  he  knew  well  enough,  by  vigilant  eyes, 
but  not,  he  trusted,  by  the  moose. 

On  this  point  he  was  presently  quite  assured, 
for  he  had  little  more  than  reached  cover  again 
when  he  saw  the  cow  reappear  on  the  open  beach 
a  short  distance  up  the  lake.  She  walked  out  till 
her  fore  hoofs  were  at  the  very  edge  of  the  water, 
then  called  again  and  again.  She  knew  that  some- 
where in  these  illimitable  shades,  bold  but  crafty, 
her  mate  was  watching  and  listening. 

In  answer  to  her  call  he  was  likely  to  come 
rushing  up  noisily,  defying  all  peril,  and  flinging 
his  challenge  abroad  for  all  whom  it  might  interest. 
But  to-night  there  was  a  vague  suspicion  in  the 
air.  It  was  probable  that  he  would  come  silently, 
and  give  no  hint  of  his  coming  until  he  stood  be- 
side her  on  the  beach. 

The  point  of  beach  whereon  the  cow  was  stand- 
ing was  carefully  chosen  with  reference  to  the 
scare  which  she  had  received  a  half-hour  earlier 


76         TTbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

It  was  where  a  little  stream  flowed  in  through  a 
space  of  wild  meadow,  so  that  there  was  ample 
open  all  about  her,  and  no  enemy  could  get  nearer 
than  forty  or  fifty  yards  without  revealing  him- 
self. 

From  the  foot  of  the  lake  the  woodsman  ap- 
proached with  a  stealth  that  none  of  the  wild 
kindred  themselves  could  surpass.  Skirting  the 
back  of  the  meadow,  he  drew  near  from  the  upper 
side,  expecting  that  any  response  the  call  might 
bring  would  come  from  that  direction.  Then  he 
hid  himself  in  a  dense  thicket  of  willows  near  the 
water. 

Meanwhile  there  were  others  besides  the  woods- 
man for  whom  the  calling  of  the  lonely  cow  had 
interest.  The  great  black  bear,  having  recovered 
from  his  panic  and  put  what  he  thought  a  safe 
distance  between  himself  and  the  dangerous  stran- 
ger, had  slipped  his  huge  bulk  through  the  under- 
brush without  a  sound,  and  glared  out  savagely 
over  the  meadow  to  the  solitary  figure  on  the 
beach. 

He  knew  that  he  was  no  match  in  speed  for  a 
frightened  cow  moose,  and  he  sawT  that  the  dis- 
tance across  the  open  was  too  great  for  him  to 
carry  the  matter  by  a  rush.  That  cow  was  not 


Hnswerers  to  tbe  Call  77 

for  him,  apparently.  His  mouth  watered,  but  he 
held  himself  firmly  under  cover,  waiting  in  the 
hope  that  some  whimsical  fortune  of  the  woods 
might  throw  opportunity  in  his  way. 

Suddenly  his  ears  caught  a  tiny  but  suggestive 
sound.  Somewhere  far  up  the  course  of  the  little 
brook  a  twig  snapped  sharply.  He  turned  his 
attention  away  from  the  cow,  and  listened.  That 
chance  sound,  so  conspicuous  on  the  expectant 
silence,  might  signify  the  coming  of  the  antlered 
bull. 

The  bear  would  much  rather  have  spared  him- 
self exertion  by  hunting  the  cow;  but  a  bull,  al- 
though apt  to  prove  a  dangerous  adversary  to  an 
inexperienced  bear,  was  well  enough  for  one  who 
knew  how  to  manage  such  matters.  He  slipped 
over  to  the  edge  of  the  brook,  and  crouched  be- 
hind a  huge  stump  which  was  veiled  by  a  growth 
of  vines. 

Immediately  before  him  was  the  narrow,  grassy 
clearway  occupied  by  the  brook  at  high  water, 
and  now  threaded  by  a  winding,  loitering  rivulet. 
So  narrow  was  the  space  that  in  one  lunge  of  his 
long  body  and  mighty  forearm  he  could  reach 
almost  all  the  way  across  it.  This  white-lit  path 
was  fretted  with  black  traceries  of  branch  and 


78         Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

leaf,  but  the  shadow  behind  the  rock  was  so  thick 
that  even  the  furry  bulk  of  the  bear  was  com- 
pletely engulfed  in  it. 

The  lonely  figure  out  by  the  lake -side  kept 
repeating  its  harsh  calls  from  time  to  time,  but 
neither  the  bear  behind  his  brook-side  rock  nor 
the  woodsman  in  his  willow  thicket  up  the  shore 
any  longer  heeded  her.  Both  were  waiting  for  a 
third  to  answer  her  summons. 

The  third,  indeed,  was  coming  to  answer;  but 
with  unwonted  circumspection.  He  was  a  small 
but  sturdy  young  bull,  his  antlers  not  yet  perfect. 
It  was  he  whom  the  hunter  had  heard  thrashing 
the  bushes  in  challenge;  and  when  his  mate  first 
sent  her  call  across  the  lake,  he  had  stood  silent 
behind  the  sheltering  trees  and  watched  her.  But 
just  as  he  was  about  to  start  on  the  long  detour 
round  the  foot  of  the  lake  to  join  her,  he  had  seen 
her  sudden  alarm  and  been  puzzled  by  it. 

Like  the  woodsman,  he  had  rested  for  some 
time,  motionless  and  watchful,  looking  for  what 
else  might  happen.  The  absence  of  happening 
had  left  him  vaguely  apprehensive.  When,  there- 
fore, he  saw  her  reappear  long  afterward  on  his 
own  side  of  the  lake  and  begin  her  calls  again, 
he  was  cautious  about  replying.  Instead  of  hurry- 


THE     MOOSE     CAME    IN     SIGHT     UP     THE    BROOK     CHANNEL.*1 


Hnswerers  to  tbe  Call  79 

ing  straight  down  the  shore  to  meet  her,  he  sank 
softly  back,  deeper  and  deeper,  into  the  woods, 
till  her  voice  could  scarcely  reach  his  ears. 

Then  he  made  a  wide  swing  round,  and  came 
stealthily  down  the  channel  of  the  little  brook. 
In  spite  of  his  bulk,  his  spread  of  antlers,  his  broad 
and  loose-hung  hoofs,  no  mink  or  weasel  could 
have  come  more  silently  than  he. 

As  the  moose  came  in  sight  up  the  brook  chan- 
nel, a  moving  shadow,  the  muscles  of  the  watch- 
ing bear  behind  the  rock  grew  tense,  and  a  lumi- 
nous green  film  seemed  to  come  over  his  small 
eyes.  One  powerful  hind  leg  lifted  itself  till  its 
claws  took  firm  grip  on  a  projection  near  the  top 
of  the  rock.  He  was  like  a  catapult,  bent  and 
ready. 

When  the  moose  came  just  opposite,  the  giant 
spring  was  loosed.  The  ponderous  shape  of  the 
bear  launched  out  over  the  top  of  the  rock  and 
seemed  to  shoot  through  the  air. 

Magnificent  as  the  leap  was,  however,  it  just 
fell  short  of  its  mark;  for  the  moose,  taking  in- 
stinctive alarm  before  any  cause  was  actually 
perceptible,  had  swerved  a  yard  aside  from  the 
place  of  ambush.  Instead  of  falling  directly  upon 
him,  therefore,  and  bearing  him  to  the  ground 


8o        Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

with  a  broken  back,  the  bear  landed  at  his  side, 
just  close  enough  to  strike  him  a  savage  blow  on 
the  neck. 

Powerful  as  the  neck  of  a  bull  moose  is,  had 
that  blow  struck  true  it  would  have  ended  the 
fight.  But  it  fell  rakingly,  rending  hide  and 
muscle  but  breaking  no  bones,  Brave  as  he  was 
cautious,  the  moose  wheeled  to  strike  back. 

Jumping  aside  with  the  agility  of  a  red  buck, 
he  gained  room  to  lower  his  antlers,  and  lunged 
forward  upon  the  foe  with  all  the  force  of  his  seven 
hundred  pounds  behind  these  formidable  weapons. 
The  bear,  skilful  as  a  boxer  at  parrying,  with  his 
big  fore  paw  turned  aside  the  direct  thrust;  but 
owing  to  the  spread  of  the  antlers,  one  long,  keen 
spike  caught  him  right  under  the  shoulder  and 
drove  home. 

Then  began  a  terrific  uproar  of  crashing  and 
growling  and  coughing  and  grunting,  while  the 
underbrush  was  beaten  flat  beneath  the  ponder- 
ous combatants.  The  bear  clung  to  the  antlers, 
wrenching  and  twisting,  now  trying  to  pull  his 
antagonist  to  the  ground,  now  striving  to  reach 
past  his  pronged  defences  and  rend  his  throat. 

For  a  time  the  moose  succeeded  in  keeping  his 
feet,  struggling  to  force  his  assailant  backward 


answerers  to  tbe  Call  81 

and  pierce  his  flank.  Then  he  was  lucky  enough 
to  tear  himself  free.  Instantly  he  reared  like  a 
mad  horse,  and  brought  down  his  sharp  hoofs  on 
the  enemy 's  shoulder. 

It  was  a  terrific  blow,  battering  like  a  sledge- 
hammer and  cutting  like .  an  axe,  and  the  bear 
roared  under  it.  But  it  was  not  a  finishing  blow, 
and  it  let  the  foe  reach  close  quarters.  The  bear 
got  the  bull's  neck  into  the  grip  of  his  mighty 
forearms,  and  pulled  him  down.  The  moose 
struggled  valiantly,  thrashing  backward  with 
jagged  antlers,  and  tearing  up  the  ground  in  des- 
perate efforts  to  regain  his  feet.  But  victory  was 
now,  beyond  peradventure,  within  the  clutch  of 
the  bear. 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  battle  the  cow  had 
come  trotting  inland  to  see  what  was  going  on, 
under  the  impression  that  her  mate  had  fallen 
foul  of  a  rival.  At  the  inner  extremity  of  the 
meadow,  however,  she  caught  sight  of  the  woods- 
man running  in  the  same  direction,  whereupon 
her  discretion  overcame  all  other  emotions,  and 
she  made  haste  to  escape  from  a  neighbourhood  so 
full  of  the  unexpected. 

The  woodsman  never  gave  her  a  glance,  but  ran 
on  at  a  swift  lope,  a  spark  of  excitement  in  his 


82        TTbe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

quiet  gray  eyes.  When  he  reached  the  scene  of 
combat  the  bear  had  just  got  his  brave  antagonist 
down. 

The  hunter  paused  for  a  few  seconds,  to  take 
in  the  situation  thoroughly.  Then  he  raised  his 
rifle.  His  sympathies  were  altogether  with  the 
moose.  He  waited  till  he  got  the  chance  he 
wanted,  then  he  sent  a  heavy  45-70  expanding 
bullet  through  the  bear's  heart. 

The  great  black  form  collapsed  in  a  limp  heap 
upon  his  adversary;  and  the  latter,  struggling  to 
his  feet,  threw  the  burden  disdainfully  aside. 
At  first  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  woodsman, 
who,  taking  it  for  granted  that  his  injuries  were 
hopeless,  stood  waiting  compassionately  to  end 
his  sufferings.  But  this  young  bull  was  made  of 
astonishingly  tough  stuff.  In  his  rage  he  had 
apparently  not  heard  the  sound  of  the  rifle.  As 
soon  as  he  had  fairly  regained  his  feet,  he  reared 
to  his  full  height,  came  down  upon  the  bear's  un- 
resisting form,  and  trampled  madly  for  several 
seconds. 

The  woodsman  stood  watching  with  a  grin  of 
sympathetic  approval,  and  muttered,  "  Chuck 
full  of  ginger  yet!  " 

At  last  the  panting  beast  turned  his  head,  and 


Hnswerets  to  tbe  Call  83 

saw  the  man.  The  sight  sobered  him.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  staring  and  shaking  his  head, 
drunk  with  his  imagined  triumph.  Then  discretion 
whispered  in  his  ear.  He  turned  away  sullenly, 
with  one  last,  regretful  look  at  his  foe's  battered 
body,  and  trotted  off  into  the  mystic  confusion 
of  shine  and  shadow. 


prisoners  of  tbe  BMtcber^pIant 


the  edge  of  a  rough  piece  of  open, 
where  the  scrubby  bushes  which  clothed 
the  plain  gave  space  a  little  to  the 
weeds  and  harsh  grasses,  stood  the  clustering 
pitchers  of  a  fine  young  sarracenia.  These 
pitchers,  which  were  its  leaves,  were  of  a 
light,  cool  green,  vividly  veined  with  crimson 
and  shading  into  a  bronzy  red  about  the  lip  and 
throat.  They  were  of  all  sizes,  being  at  all  stages 
of  growth  ;  and  the  largest,  which  had  now,  on  the 
edge  of  summer,  but  barely  attained  maturity, 
were  about  six  inches  in  length  and  an  inch  and  a 
quarter  in  extreme  diameter.  Down  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  cluster,  hardly  to  be  discerned,  was 
a  tiny  red-tipped  bud,  destined  to  shoot  up,  later 
in  the  season,  into  a  sturdy  flower-stalk. 

Against  the  fresh,  warm  green  of  the  sunlit 
world   surrounding  it,    the   sarracenia  's    peculiar 
colouring  stood  out  conspicuously,  its  streaks  and 
84 


"AT    THIS     MOMENT    A    PASSING     SHRIKE     SWOOPED     DOWN. 


TTbe  prisoners  of  tbe  flMtcber*plant    85 

splashes  of  red  having  the  effect  of  blossoms. 
This  effect,  at  a  season  when  bright-hued  blooms 
were  scarce,  made  the  plant  very  attractive  to 
any  insects  that  chanced  within  view  of  it.  There 
was  nearly  always  some  flutterer  or  hummer 
poising  above  it,  or  touching  it  eagerly  to  dart 
away  again  in  disappointment.  But  every  once 
in  awhile  some  little  wasp,  or  fly,  or  shining- 
winged  beetle,  or  gauzy  ichneumon,  would  alight 
on  the  alluring  lip,  pause,  and  peer  down  into  the 
pitcher.  As  a  rule  the  small  investigator  would 
venture  farther  and  farther,  till  it  disappeared. 
Then  it  never  came  out  again. 

On  a  leaf  of  a  huckleberry  bush,  overhanging 
the  pitcher-plant,  a  little  black  ant  was  running 
about  with  the  nimble  curiosity  of  her  kind.  An 
orange  and  black  butterfly,  fluttering  lazily  in  the 
sun,  came  close  beside  the  leaf.  At  this  moment 
a  passing  shrike  swooped  down  and  caught  the 
butterfly  in  his  beak.  One  of  his  long  wings, 
chancing  to  strike  the  leaf,  sent  it  whirling  from 
its  stem ;  and  the  ant  fell  directly  upon  one  of  the 
pitchers  below. 

It  was  far  down  upon  the  red,  shining  lip  of  the 
pitcher  that  she  fell ;  and  there  she  clung  reso- 
lutely, her  feet  sinking  into  a  sort  of  fur  of  smooth, 


86        Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

whitish  hairs.  When  she  had  quite  recovered  her 
equanimity  she  started  to  explore  her  new  sur- 
roundings ;  and,  because  that  was  the  easiest  way 
to  go,  she  went  in  the  direction  toward  which  the 
hairs  all  pointed.  In  a  moment,  therefore,  she 
found  herself  just  on  the  edge  of  the  precipitous 
slope  from  the  lip  to  the  throat  of  the  pitcher. 
Here,  finding  the  slope  strangely  slippery,  she 
thought  it  best  to  stop  and  retrace  her  steps.  But 
when  she  attempted  this  she  found  it  impossible. 
The  little,  innocent-looking  hairs  all  pressed 
against  her,  thrusting  her  downward.  The  more 
she  struggled,  the  more  energetically  and  elastic- 
ally  they  pushed  back  at  her;  till  all  at  once 
she  was  forced  over  the  round,  smooth  edge,  and 
fell. 

To  her.  terrified  amazement,  it  was  water  she 
fell  into.  The  pitcher  was  about  half  full  of  the 
chilly  fluid.  In  her  kickings  and  twistings  she 
brought  herself  to  the  walls  of  her  green  prison, 
and  tried  to  clamber  out,  —  but  here,  again,  were 
those  cruel  hairs  on  guard  to  foil  her.  She  tried 
to  evade  them,  to  break  them  down,  to  bite  them 
off  with  her  strong,  sharp  mandibles.  At  last, 
by  a  supreme  effort,  she  managed  to  drag  herself 
almost  clear,  —  but  only  to  be  at  once  hurled 


prisoners  ot  tbe  BMtcber*plant    87 

back,  and  far  out  into  the  water,  by  the  sharp 
recoil  of  her  tormentors. 

Though  pretty  well  exhausted  by  now,  she 
would  not  give  up  the  struggle;  and  presently 
her  convulsive  efforts  brought  her  alongside  of  a 
refuge.  It  was  only  the  floating  body  of  a  dead 
moth,  but  to  the  ant  it  was  a  safe  and  ample  raft. 
Eagerly  she  crept  out  upon  it,  and  lay  very  still 
for  awhile,  recovering  her  strength.  More  fortu- 
nate than  most  shipwrecked  voyagers,  she  had  an 
edible  raft  and  was  therefore  in  no  imminent  peril 
of  starvation. 

The  light  that  came  through  the  veined,  trans- 
lucent walls  of  this  watery  prison  was  of  an  ex- 
quisite cool  beryl,  very  different  from  the  warm 
daylight  overhead.  The  ant  had  never  been  in 
any  such  surroundings  before,  and  was  bewildered 
by  the  strangeness  of  them.  After  a  brief  rest  she 
investigated  minutely  every  corner  of  her  queer 
retreat,  and  then,  finding  that  there  was  nothing 
she  could  do  to  better  the  situation,  she  re- 
sumed her  attitude  of  repose,  with  only  the  slight 
waving  of  her  antennae  to  show  that  she  was 
awake. 

For  a  long  time  nothing  happened.  No  winds 
were  astir  that  day,  and  no  sounds  came  down 


88        Ube  haunters  of  tbe  Silences 

into  the  pitcher  save  the  shrill,  happy  chirping 
of  birds  in  the  surrounding  bushes.  But  sudden- 
ly the  pitcher  began  to  tip  and  rock  slightly,  and 
the  water  to  wash  within  its  coloured  walls. 
Something  had  alighted  on  the  pitcher's  lip. 

It  was  something  comparatively  heavy,  that 
was  evident.  A  moment  or  two  later  it  came 
sliding  down  those  treacherous  hairs,  and  fell 
into  the  water  with  a  great  splash  which  nearly 
swept  the  ant  from  her  refuge. 

The  new  arrival  was  a  bee.  And  now  began  a 
tremendous  turmoil  within  the  narrow  prison. 
The  bee  struggled,  whirled  around  on  the  surface 
with  thrashing  wings,  and  sent  the  water  swashing 
in  every  direction,  till  the  ant  was  nearly  drowned. 
She  hung  to  her  raft,  however,  and  waited  philo- 
sophically for  the  hubbub  to  subside.  At  length 
the  bee  too,  after  half  a  dozen  vain  and  exhausting 
struggles  to  climb  out  against  the  opposing  array 
of  hairs,  encountered  the  body  of  the  dead  moth. 
Instantly  she  tried  to  raise  herself  upon  it,  so  as  to 
escape  trie  chill  of  the  water  and  dry  her  wings  for 
flight.  But  she  was  too  heavy.  The  moth  sank, 
and  rolled  over,  at  the  same  time  being  thrust 
against  the  wall  of  the  pitcher.  The  ant,  in  high 
indignation  clutched  a  bundle  of  the  hostile  hairs 


Ube  prisoners  of  tbe  HMtcber^plant    89 

in  her  mandibles,  and  held  herself  at  anchor 
against  the  wall. 

Thoroughly  used  up,  and  stupid  with  panic  and 
chill,  the  bee  kept  on  futilely  grappling  with  the 
moth's  body,  which,  in  its  turn,  kept  on  sinking 
and  rolling  beneath  her.  A  very  few  minutes  of 
such  disastrous  folly  sufficed  to  end  the  struggle, 
and  soon  the  bee  was  floating,  drowned  and 
motionless,  beside  the  moth.  Then  the  ant,  with 
satisfaction,  returned  to  her  refuge. 

When  things  get  started  happening,  they  are 
quite  apt  to  keep  it  up  for  awhile,  as  if  events 
invited  events.  A  large  hunting  spider,  creeping 
among  the  grass  and  weeds,  discovered  the  hand- 
some cluster  of  the  sarracenia.  She  was  one  of  the 
few  creatures  who  had  learned  the  secret  of  the 
pitcher-plant  and  knew  how  to  turn  it  to  account. 
More  than  once  had  she  found  easy  prey  in  some 
trapped  insect  struggling  near  the  top  of  a  well- 
filled  pitcher. 

Selecting  the  largest  pitcher  as  the  one  most 
likely  to  yield  results,  the  spider  climbed  its  stem. 
Then  she  mounted  the  bright  swell  of  the  pitcher 
itself,  whose  smooth  outer  surface  offered  no 
obstacle  to  such  visitors.  The  pitcher  swayed  and 
bowed.  The  water  within  washed  heavily.  And 


90         Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

the  ant,  with  new  alarm,  marked  the  big,  black 
shadow  of  the  spider  creeping  up  the  outside  of 
her  prison. 

Having  reached  the  lip  of  the  leaf  and  cautiously 
crawled  over  upon  it,  the  spider  took  no  risks  with 
those  traitor  hairs.  She  threw  two  or  three  stout 
cables  of  web  across  the  lip;  and  then,  with  this 
secure  anchorage  by  which  to  pull  herself  back,  she 
ventured  fearlessly  down  the  steep  of  that  perilous 
throat.  One  hooked  claw,  outstretched  behind 
her,  held  aloft  the  cable  which  exuded  from  her 
spinnerets  as  she  moved. 

On  the  extreme  of  the  slope  she  stopped,  and 
her  red,  jewelled  cluster  of  eyes  glared  fiercely 
down  upon  the  little  black  ant.  The  latter  shrank 
and  crouched,  and  tried  to  hide  herself  under  the 
side  of  the  dead  moth  to  escape  the  light  of  those 
baleful  eyes.  This  new  peril  was  one  which  ap- 
palled her  far  more  than  all  the  others  she  had 
encountered. 

At  this  most  critical  of  all  crises  in  the  destiny 
of  the  little  black  ant,  the  fickle  Fortune  of  the 
Wild  was  seized  with  another  whim.  An  over- 
whelming cataclysm  descended  suddenly  upon  the 
tiny  world  of  the  pitcher-plant.  The  soft,  furry 
feet  of  some  bounding  monster  —  rabbit,  fox,  or 


Ube  prisoners  of  tbe  fiMtcber=plant    91 

wildcat  —  came  down  amongst  the  clustered 
pitchers,  crushing  several  to  bits  and  scattering 
wide  the  contents  of  all  the  rest.  Among  these 
latter  was  that  which  contained  the  little  black  ant. 
Drenched,  astonished,  but  unhurt,  she  found 
herself  lying  in  a  tuft  of  splashed  grass,  once  more 
free.  Above  her,  on  a  grass-top,  clung  the  bewil- 
dered spider.  As  it  hung  there,  conspicuous  to  all 
the  foraging  world,  a  great  black-and-yellow  wasp 
pounced  upon  it,  stung  it  into  helplessness,  and 
carried  it  off  on  heavily  humming  wing. 


prowlers 


REELING  under  a  stiff  breeze,  the  sloop 
rose  joyously  to  the  long  Caribbean 
rollers.  Soon  after  midnight  Mahoney 
awoke:  He  went  to  the  tiller  at  once,  and 
let  the  stalwart  Jamaican  nigger,  who  consti- 
tuted his  crew,  take  a  turn  of  sleep.  The  wind 
was  steady,  the  sea  was  clear,  there  was  no 
island,  reef,  or  shoal  between  himself  and  Cuba, 
and  Mahoney  had  little  to  do  but  hold  the  tiller 
and  dream.  Presently  clouds  gathered,  obscuring 
the  moon,  and  thickened  till  the  light  which 
filtered  through  them  wras  rather  a  deceit  than  an 
illumination.  Far-off  waves  seemed  close  at 
hand,  and  waves  so  near  they  were  about  to  break 
over  the  bow  appeared  remote.  Strange  shapes 
made  and  unmade  themselves  among  the  shifting 
surfaces,  dark,  solid  forms  which  melted  into 
flowing,  hissing  water.  Mahoney's  eyes  amused 
themselves  with  these  fantastic  wave  -shadows 
92 


prowlers  93 

and  phantoms  of  the  fluent  deep.  Then,  suddenly, 
one  of  the  dark,  submerged  shapes  broke  the  rules 
of  the  game.  It  refused  to  melt  and  flow.  With 
a  gasp  Mahoney  jammed  his  helm  hard  round, 
and  let  go  his  sheet  on  the  run.  There  was  a 
shuddering  shock.  The  boat  reared,  like  a 
frightened  horse  struggling  to  climb  a  bank.  Then, 
with  a  kind  of  sickening  deliberation,  she  turned 
clean  over.  There  was  a .  choking  yell  from  the 
rudely  awakened  darky;  and  Mahoney  found 
himself  plunged  into  the  smother  of  the  broken 
waves. 

When  he  came  to  the  surface  and  shook  the 
water  out  of  his  eyes,  Mahoney  clutched  the  stern 
and  pulled  himself  up  to  see  what  had  happened. 
He  had  run  upon  a  huge  fragment  of  a  broken-up 
wreck.  From  the  heavy,  steady  motion,  he  con- 
cluded that  the  boat  was  caught  on  a  sunken 
portion  of  the  wreck.  Some  fifteen  feet  away  a 
space  of  deck,  with  a  few  feet  of  bulwarks,  rose 
just  clear  of  the  waves.  This  seemed  to  offer  a 
less  precarious  refuge  than  the  keel  to  which  he 
was  clinging.  He  slipped  back  into  the  waves, 
struck  out  hurriedly,  and  dragged  himself  up  to 
the  highest  point  of  the  wet  deck.  Here,  holding 
to  the  broken  bulwarks,  he  peered  about  for  his 


94         TTbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

assistant.  Taking  for  granted  that  the  negro, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  a  magnificent  swimmer, 
was  clinging  to  the  other  side  of  the  boat,  he 
shouted  to  him,  with  angry  solicitude,  but  got  no 
answer.  It  was  incomprehensible.  Starting  to 
his  feet  he  was  about  to  plunge  again  into  the 
smother  and  swim  around  the  boat.  Then  he 
checked  himself.  Such  a  step  was  obviously  futile. 
If  the  negro  had  been  there,  he  would  have  lost  no 
time  in  clambering  out  upon  the  bottom  of  the 
boat.  There  was  a  mystery  in  that  sudden  and 
complete  disappearance.  With  a  shiver  Mahoney 
crouched  down  again  and  clutched  the  lurching 
bulwarks. 

He  had  plenty  of  time  now  to  think.  He  cursed 
himself  bitterly  for  the  rash  impatience  which  had 
driven  him  to  attempt  the  journey  from  Kingston 
to  Santiago  in  a  little  sloop,  instead  of  waiting 
for  the  regular  steamer,  just  because  he  feared  the 
rebellion  might  fizzle  out  before  he  could  get  there 
to  make  a  story  of  it.  His  folly  had  cos.t  the 
nigger's  life,  at  least;  and  the  account  was  not 
yet  closed!  Well,  the  nigger  was  gone,  poor 
beggar.  His  black  hide  had  enclosed  a  man,  all 
right;  but  there  was  no  use  worrying  over  him. 
The  question  was,  how  soon  would  a  ship  come 


Ube  prowlers  95 

along?  This  was  a  frequented  sea,  more  or  less. 
But  the  wreck  was  almost  level  with  the  water, 
and  lamentably  inconspicuous.  Mahoney  knew 
that  unless  he  were  picked  up  right  soon  the  tropic 
sun  would  drive  him  mad  with  thirst.  He  knew, 
too,  that  if  any  sort  of  a  wind  should  blow  up,  he 
would  promptly  have  forced  upon  him  that  knowl- 
edge of  the  other  world  which  he  was  not  yet  ready 
to  acquire.  It  was  clear  that  he  must  find  some 
means  of  flying  a  signal.  He  decided  that  when 
daylight  came  he  would  dive  under  the  upturned 
boat,  cut  away  either  the  gaff  or  the  boom,  lash 
it  to  the  bulwarks,  and  hoist  his  shirt  upon  it  as  a 
flag  of  distress. 

Just  before  dawn  the  breeze  died  away.  By 
the  time  the  east  had  begun  to  flame,  and  thin 
washes  of  red-orange  to  mottle  the  sky  fantastic- 
ally, the  long  swells  were  as  smooth  as  glass.  Ma- 
honey  was  impatient  to  get  up  his  flagstaff,  but 
he  wanted  plenty  of  light.  He  waited  until  the 
sky  was  blue,  the  sun  clear  of  the  horizon.  Then 
he  stood  up,  set  the  hilt  of  his  knife  between  his 
teeth,  and  prepared  to  plunge  in.  Before  doing 
so,  however,  he  instinctively  scanned  the  water 
all  about  him.  Then  he  removed  the  knife  from 
his  mouth  and  stared. 


96         Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

"  That  accounts  for  it!  "  he  muttered,  his  teeth 
baring  themselves  with  a  snarl  of  loathing  as  he 
thrust  the  knife  back  into  his  belt  and  sat  down 
again.  Just  behind  him,  and  not  a  dozen  feet 
away,  a  gigantic,  triangular  black  fin  was  slowly 
cleaving  the  swells. 

There  being  nothing  else  to  do,  Mahoney  occu- 
pied himself  in  watching  that  great  dorsal,  as  it 
prowled  slowly  this  way  and  that.  Such  a  fin,  he 
calculated,  must  mean  a  bigger  shark  than  any 
that  had  hitherto  come  within  his  range  of  obser- 
vation. He  had  a  righteous  hatred  of  all  sharks, 
but  this  one  in  particular  sickened  him  with 
vindictive  loathing.  He  knew  how  lately,  and 
how  horridly,  it  had  fed;  yet  here  it  was  as  raven- 
ous as  ever.  Presently  it  sank  out  of  sight,  and 
was  gone  for  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  Then, 
on  a  sudden,  there  was  the  devilish  black  fin 
again,  vigilant  and  deliberate. 

As  the  sun  rose,  and  the  light  fell  more  steeply, 
the  dazzling  reflections  disappeared  and  Mahoney 
could  look  down  into  the  transparent  blue-green 
depths.  He  saw  that  the  wreck  on  which  he  had 
taken  refuge  was  an  old  one,  long  adrift  in  the 
teeming  tropic  seas.  Its  under  edges  carried  a 
dense,  waving  fringe  of  barnacles  and  coloured 


"LAY    MOTIONLESS    BUT    FOR    THE    EASY    WAVING    OF    ITS    FINS." 


prowlers  97 

weed,  swarming  with  sea-creatures.  In  its  shadow 
life  crowded  riotously,  and  death  held  easy  revel. 
Among  the  looser  fringes  of  the  barnacle  growth 
swam  fish  of  the  smaller  species,  many  of  them 
flashing  with  the  radiance  of  sapphire  and  topaz, 
or  shooting  like  pink  flames.  Hither  and  thither 
darted  a  small  school  of  blue  and  gold  bonito, 
insatiable  and  swift,  snatching  down  their  prey 
from  among  the  tips  of  the  barnacles.  About  six 
feet  below  the  barnacles  a  cavernous- jawed  barra- 
couta,  perhaps  five  feet  long,  lay  motionless  but 
for  the  easy  waving  of  its  fins.  It  must  have  been 
gorged,  for  Mahoney,  in  all  his  seafaring,  had 
never  before  seen  one  of  these  ravenous  and 
ferocious  fish  thus  at  rest.  It  must  even  have, 
for  once,  lapsed  into  something  like  sleep,  —  a 
perilous  lapse  in  the  strenuous  life  of  the  sea,  for 
anything  less  formidable  than  a  sperm  whale  or  an 
orca,  and  net  without  its  dangers  even  for  them. 
Its  wide-set,  staring  eyes  seemed  to  command  a 
view  in  every  direction.  Yet  they  did  not  see  a 
huge,  spectral  form  rise  smoothly  from  below, 
turning  belly  upward  with  a  sudden  green-white 
gleam.  Then,  the  barracouta's  powerful  tail 
twisted  with  a  violence  that  sent  the  water  swirling 
as  from  a  screw.  But  it  was  too  late.  The  shark's 


98         tlbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

triangular  jaws  snapped  upon  their  prey,  biting 
the  big  fish  in  halves.  The  two  pieces  were  bolted 
instantly,  as  a  hungry  man  bolts  a  "  bluepoint." 
And  the  shark  —  the  biggest  "man-eater  "  that 
Mahoney  had  ever  seen  —  sank  slowly  out  of 
sight,  to  reappear  at  the  surface  again  in  five  min- 
utes as  ravenous  as  ever. 

By  this  time  it  was  beginning  to  get  hot,  there 
on  the  shelterless  wreck.  A  small  steamer  passed 
in  the  distance.  Mahoney  tore  off  his  shirt  and 
waved  it  wildly,  on  the  chance  that  some  one  on 
the  steamer  might  at  that  moment  have  a  telescope 
pointed  in  his  direction.  The  steamer  went  its 
way.  Mahoney  put  on  his  shirt  again,  and  wished 
he  had  not  lost  his  hat.  He  had  a  handkerchief, 
however,  and  this  he  wound  upon  the  top  of  his 
head  like  a  turban.  By  wetting  it  frequently  he 
kept  his  head  and  neck  cool.  As  the  morning 
wore  on,  no  fewer  than  five  sails  appeared  on  the 
horizon,  but  none  came  near  enough  even  to  ex- 
cite a  thrill  of  hope.  Since  there  was  nothing 
better  to  do,  Mahoney  was  wise  enough  to  keep 
as  still  as  possible,  watching  the  strange  life 
that  went  on  beneath  his  refuge,  and  splashing 
water  over  himself  from  time  to  time  that  his 
skin  might  absorb  some  of  the  liquid,  and  so 


Ube  prowlers  99 

the  dreaded  torment  of  thirst  be  a   little   post- 
poned. 

The  blazing  sun  dragged  slowly  past  the  zenith, 
indifferent  to  Mahoney's  maledictions.  Along  in 
the  afternoon  a  three-masted  schooner  hove  in 
sight.  There  was  not  enough  wind,  now,  to  ruffle 
the  tops  of  the  swells ;  but  there  was  some  breeze 
up  aloft,  apparently,  and  the  schooner,  with  all 
her  canvas  spread,  was  catching  it,  for  she  moved 
along  at  a  brisk  pace.  Her  course  brought  her  so 
near  that  Mahoney  tore  off  his  shirt  in  trembling 
anxiety  and  waved  it  at  arm's  length,  jumping 
as  high  as  he  could  in  the  struggle  to  make  himself 
conspicuous.  Finding  this  fruitless,  he  then  tied 
the  shirt  to  the  sleeves  of  his  white  duck  coat, 
making  a  long  streamer,  which  he  thought  the 
lookout  could  not  fail  to  see.  -Notwithstanding 
all  this  frantic  effort  the  schooner  sailed  on  unheed- 
ing. From  its  decks  the  waving  white  streamer, 
if  seen  at  all,  would  have  looked  like  nothing 
more  than  an  agitated  streak  of  foam.  But  to 
Mahoney  it  seemed  that  he  was  being  wantonly 
and  brutally  ignored.  With  a  pang  he  realized 
that  his  excitement  and  his  effort  had  accom- 
plished but  one  thing.  They  had  brought  on  the 
thirst!  His  throat  was  parching.  He  had  an 


ioo       Ube  Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

impulse  to  break  out  into  a  volley  of  hysterical 
curses  against  the  retreating  ship.  But  his  self- 
respect  withheld  him.  Leaning  over  the  bulwarks, 
he  murmured  to  the  great  green  prowling  shape 
of  his  submarine  jailer: 

"  You're  no  worse  than  lots  of  men,  you  ain't, 
damn  you!  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  this  equivocal  compliment 
the  shark  sailed  in  to  within  a  little  more  than 
arm's  length  of  the  bulwark,  and  looked  up  at 
Mahoney  with  cold,  malignant  eyes.  Mahoney 
kicked  at  him  hysterically,  then  turned  away  and 
drenched  himself  where  the  little  waves  ran  up 
shallow  over  the  slope1  of  the  deck.  The  cool  of 
the  water  on  his  skin,  particularly  on  his  throat 
and  wrists,  did  actually,  though  slightly,  ease 
his  thirst. 

The  night  fell  windless  and  clear;  and  for  a 
time,  so  black  were  the  shifting  reflections  on  the 
swells,  so  confusing  the  phosphorescent  gleams 
that  shot  up  through  the  waters,  that  Mahoney 
could  no  longer  see  the  stealthy  prowling  of  the 
great  black  fin.  Lashing  himself  to  the  bulwark 
by  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt,  he  snatched  an  hour  or 
two  of  troubled  sleep.  Once  he  woke  with  a  shock 
of  disappointment  from  a  dream  that  the  bottom 


"ONLY    THAT    SHARP    BLACK    FIN,   THAT    PROWLED     AND 
PROWLED,     KEPT    ALWAYS    IN     SIGHT." 


prowlers  101 

had  fallen  out  of  a  jug  of  water  which  he  was 
just  raising  to  his  lips.  Again  he  started  up  shout- 
ing, and  struggling  fiercely  with  the  bonds  that 
held  him  safely  to  the  bulwark.  He  had  dreamed 
that  a  glittering  white  steam-yacht  was  speeding 
close  past  his  refuge,  —  so  close  that  he  had  to 
look  up  at  her  rail,  —  yet  the  people  on  her  deck 
most  unaccountably  failing  to  see  him.  From 
this  waking  he  fell  back  weak  and  hopeless,  and  it 
was  some  minutes  before  he  could  get  his  nerves 
under  their  wonted  cool  control.  He  had  no  longer 
any  desire  for  sleep,  so  he  devoted  himself  again 
to  soaking  his  wrists  in  the  water  and  letting  the 
lambent  phosphorescence  stream  through  his 
fingers. 

At  last  the  moon  rose  over  the  waste  of  sea. 
Across  the  shimmering  silver  pathway  of  its  light 
sailed  a  far-off  ship,  small  and  black.  Mahoney 
gazed  at  it  with  longing.  An  hour  or  two  later 
another  ship  crossed  the  radiant  pathway.  But 
none  came  near  the  wreck.  Only  that  sharp  black 
fin,  that  prowled  and  prowled,  kept  always  in 
sight,  always  near,  till  Mahoney  began  to  wonder 
if  it  were  really  possible  that  the  tireless  monster 
would  get  him  in  the  end.  He  registered  a  vow 
that  if  he  should  find  himself  growing  delirious 


102       Ube  1>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

with  thirst  he  would  lash  himself  so  securely  to 
the  bulwark  that,  come  what  might,  the  shark 
should  never  get  his  body.  Comforted  by  this 
resolve,  and  the  torment  of  his  thirst  mitigated  a 
trifle  by  a  drenching  in  the  brine,  Mahoney  fell 
asleep  again,  and  did  not  wake  till  the  sun  was 
streaming. savagely  on  his  face. 

Untying  himself  from  the  bulwark,  Mahoney 
stared  about  him  wildly.  A  tall-masted  brig, 
with  royal  and  topgallant  sails  drawing  full,  was 
retreating  in  the  distance.  Apparently,  it  had 
passed  not  far  from  the  wreck.  Mahoney  cursed 
himself  wildly  for  having  allowed  himself  to  fall 
asleep.  This  had  been  perhaps,  his  one  chance. 
No  other  sail  was  in  sight.  There  was  nothing  but 
a  wisp  of  smoke  on  the  horizon,  betraying  the 
passage  of  an  unseen  steamer.  Mahoney  found 
that  he  was  babbling  to  himself  about  it,  and  the 
realization  shocked  him.  He  shook  himself, 
pulled  his  courage  and  his  nerve  together  sharply, 
then  took  off  his  clothes  and  splashed  himself 
with  water  from  head  to  foot.  It  was  certain  that 
his  thirsty  skin  must  absorb  a  good  share  of  the 
liquid  so  generously  applied  to  it;  and  thus 
assuring  himself,  his  thirst  became,  or  seemed  to 
become  less  intolerable.  When  he  had  dressed 


prowlers  103 

again,  —  leaving  off  his  shirt,  which  he  kept  tied 
to  the  bulwark  ready  for  instant  use,  —  he  leaned 
over  and  peered  down  into  the  smooth  water  to 
look  for  the  shark. 

Grim  and  spectral,  the  great  shape  was  just  in 
sight,  rising  with  strange  indolence  toward  the 
surface.  Evidently,  some  good-sized  victim  had 
just  been  devoured.  The  shark  came  to  rest 
within  a  few  inches  of  the  surface,  where  the  sun 
could  warm  its  rough  back  through  the  thin  bar- 
rier of  the  water.  There  it  lay,  apparently  basking, 
with  the  content  of  one  that  has  well  dined.  The 
complacent  malignity  of  its  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  meet  the  man's  eyes  with  a  peculiarly  confident 
menace,  filled  Mahoney  with  rage.  He  tore 
savagely  at  the  bulwarks,  in  a  foolish  attempt  to 
provide  himself  with  a  missile. 

In  the  midst  of  this  futile  effort,  Mahoney 
chanced  to  drop  his  glance  into  the  depths.  There 
he  caught  sight  of  something  that  arrested  him, 
making  him  forget  for  the  moment  even  the  tor- 
tures of.  his  thirst.  In  the  deepest  green,  at  the 
very  confines  of  his  vision,  a  gigantic  shape  came 
faintly  into  view.  It  stirred,  and  grew  more  dis- 
tinct. Motionless  he  peered  down  upon  it,  striving 
to  make  out  what  it  was.  His  sea  lore,  more 


io4        Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

abundant  than  exact,  did  not  inform  him  as  to 
whether  or  not  the  shark  had  any  enemies  to  fear ; 
but  his  imagination,  always  finding  free  play  in 
the  mysteries  of  the  deep  sea,  was  hospitably 
ready  for  any  marvel.  With  fantastic  expectancy 
he  watched  the  sinister  form  of  the  strange  crea- 
ture, as  it  slowly,  and  stealthily  floated  upward. 

Presently  he  recognized  it,  having  caught 
glimpse  of  its  like  once  before  in  a  deep  lagoon  of 
the  Ladrones.  It  was  not  altogether  dissimilar 
to  the  great  shark  basking  above  it,  but  slenderer 
in  build,  and  with  a  pair  of  curious  lateral  fins 
outspread  like  broad,  blunt  wings.  The  most 
conspicuous  difference  was  in  its  head,  which  was 
broad  and  blunt  like  the  fins,  and  armed  with  a 
kind  of  two-edged  saw,  perhaps  eight  inches  in 
width,  projecting  from  its  snout  to  a  length  of 
about  four  feet.  The  tip  of  the  saw  looked  as  if  it 
had  been  chopped  off  square.  Down  both  edges 
ran  a  series  of  keen,  raking  teeth.  It  was  the 
mysterious  and  dreadful  sawfish,  perpetrator  of 
fabulous  horrors. 

Mahoney  was  afraid  to  move  a  muscle,  lest  he 
should  arouse  the  shark  and  put  it  on  its  guard. 
The  eyes  of  the  stranger  stared  up  with  a  dead 
coldness  at  the  bulk  of  the  sleeping  monster  on  the 


«  DIRECTLY  BENEATH  THE  SHARK  THE  STRANGER  CAME 


Ube  prowlers  105 

surface.  More  rapidly  now,  but  still  almost  with- 
out movement  of  fin  or  tail,  the  ominous  form  rose 
through  the  transparent  flood,  till  Mahoney  could 
fairly  count  the  teeth  on  its  awkward-looking  but 
hideous  weapon.  Directly  beneath  the  shark  the 
stranger  came,  till  at  last  there  was  no  more  than 
the  space  of  a  few  feet  between  the  two  giant 
shapes.  And  still  the  shark  slumbered.  Mahoney 
held  his  breath.  Then  the  sawfish  rolled  over  on 
its  side,  turning  orie  edge  of  the  saw  toward  the 
surface.  For  an  instant  it  hung  so,  poised  and 
still.  Then  the  fins  and  flukes  heaved  together, 
the  long  bulk  shot  forward  and  upward,  and  the 
living  saw  cut  straight  across  the  belly  of  the 
shark,  deeply  and  cleanly,  under  the  urge  of  that 
tremendous  thrust. 

Mahoney  cried  out,  shuddering  at  the  horrible 
and  unexpected  sight.  The  shark  was  completely 
disembowelled.  With  a  gigantic  convulsion  it 
sprang  almost  clear  of  the  water,  which  was  in- 
stantly dyed  with  blood.  Mahoney  now  looked 
for  a  battle  of  Titans  to  follow.  But  in  truth  the 
battle  was  already  over.  The  victim  made  no 
attempt  at  retaliation.  It  did  not  even  seem  to 
see  its  foe,  or  to  know  what  had  stricken  it. 
For  a  few  seconds  it  lashed  the  surface  convul- 


io6       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

sively.  Then  it  dived,  plunging  straight  downward 
to  die  unseen  in  some  rayless  cavern  of  the  deeps. 

With  a  leisurely  zest  which  turned  Mahoney 
sick,  the  monster  guzzled  its  meal,  then  swam  up 
and  nosed  inquiringly  along  the  fringe  of  barnacles. 
Nothing  there  seeming  to  interest  him,  he  turned 
with  a  disdainful  sweep  of  his  huge  flukes  and 
bored  his  way  slowly  downwards  toward  the  un- 
known deep  whence  he  had  so  mysteriously  come. 
Unstirring,  held  fast  as  if  in  a  hideous  dream, 
Mahoney  watched  the  dull  gray-black  form  grow 
green,  and  spectral,  and  faint  till  at  last  it  van- 
ished. For  a  brief  space  he  continued  to  stare 
after  it,  picturing  it  in  his  fevered  imagination 
when  it  had  sunk  far  beyond  any  reach  of  sight. 
At  last,  as  if  tearing  himself  free  from  a  horrid 
spell,  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  lifted  his  eyes  to 
the  horizon'. 

There,  in  full  view,  but  too  far  away  to  notice 
such  a  speck  arncng  the  waves  as  Mahoney  on  his 
bit  of  wreck,  was  a  small  freight-boat,  steaming 
past  at  a  leisurely  pace.  Mahoney  was  himself  in 
an  instant.  He  realized  that  the  sawfish  had 
freed  him  from  his  dreadful  jailer.  With  his  knife 
between  his  teeth  he  dived  beneath  the  upturned 
sloop  and  fell  to  cutting  ropes  and  lashings  with  a 


Ube  prowlers  107 

cool  but  savage  haste.  In  half  a  minute  he  reap- 
peared, gasping,-  but  not  discouraged.  After  two 
or  three  deep  breaths  he  dived  again,  and  this 
time  when  he  came  up,  he  brought  the  long  slender 
pole  of  the  gaff  with  him.  With  frantic  eagerness 
he  hoisted  the  white  pennon  of  his  shirt  and  coat, 
thanking  Heaven  that  the  gaff  was  so  long.  He 
was  about  to  lash  the  pole  to  the  bulwarks  with 
his  belt,  when  he  remembered  that  there  was  not 
wind  enough  to  run  out  the  signal.  Lifting  it  in 
both  hands  as  high  as  he  could,  he  waved  the  flag 
wildly  over  his  head  in  great  arcs  and  sudden 
violent  dips.  Would  the  lookout  on  the  steamer 
see?  Or  seeing,  would  he  understand?  Mahoney 
felt  his  strength  suddenly  failing,  as  a  wave  of 
despair  sucked  up  at  his  heart.  It  was  all  he 
could  do  to  keep  the  signal  moving.  Then,  at  last, 
he  saw  that  the  long  line  of  the  steamer's  broadside 
was  shortening.  Yes,  —  she  was  coming,  she  was 
coming.  Tremblingly,  with  fingers  that  fumbled, 
he  lashed  the  staff  to  the  bulwark,  and  sank  pant- 
ing upon  the  deck. 


a  Stranger  to  tbe 


the  vessel,  a  big  three-masted  schooner, 
struck  again  and  lurched  forward,  grind- 
ing heavily,  she  cleared  the  reef  by 
somewhat  more  than  half  her  length.  Then 
her  back  broke.  The  massive  swells,  pound- 
ing upon  her  from  the  rear,  over-whelmed  her 
stern  and  crushed  it  down  inescapably  upon 
the  rock;  and  her  forward  half,  hanging  in 
ten  fathoms,  began  to  settle  sickeningly  into 
the  loud  hiss  and  chaos.  Around  the  reef, 
around  the  doomed  schooner,  the  lead-coloured 
fog  hung  thick,  impenetrable  at  half  a  ship's 
length.  Her  crew,  cool,  swift,  ready,  —  they  were 
Gaspe  and  New  Brunswick  fishermen,  for  the 
most  part,  —  kept  grim  silence,  and  took  the 
sharp  orders  that  came  to  them  like  gunshots 
through  the  din.  The  boats  were  cleared  away 
forward,  where  the  settling  of  the  bow  gave  some 
poor  shelter. 

*  108 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  Wilo  109 

At  this  moment  the  fog  lifted,  vanishing  swiftly 
like  a  breath  from  the  face  of  a  mirror.  Straight 
ahead,  not  two  miles  away,  loomed  a  high,  black, 
menacing  shore  —  black,  scarred  rock,  with  black 
woods  along  its  crest  and  a  sharp,  white  line  of 
surf  shuddering  along  its  base.  Between  that 
shore  and  the  shattered  schooner  lay  many  other 
reefs,  whereon  the  swells  boiled  white  and  broke 
in  dull  thunder;  but  off  to  the  southward  was 
clear  water,  and  safety  for  the  boats.  At  a  glance 
the  captain  recognized  the  land  as  a  cape  on  the 
south  coast  of  the  Gaspe  peninsula,  so  far  from 
her  course  had  the  doomed  schooner  been  driven. 
Five  minutes  more,  and  the  loaded  boats,  hurled 
up  from  the  seething  caldron  behind  the  reef, 
swung  out  triumphantly  on  a  long,  oil-dark  swell, 
and  gained  the  comparative  safety  of  the  open. 
Hardly  had  they  done  so  when  the  broken  bow  of 
the  schooner,  with  a  final  rending  of  timbers, 
settled  in  what  seemed  like  a  sudden  hurry, 
pitched  nose  downward  into  the  smother,  and 
sank  with  a  huge,  startling  sigh.  The  rear  half  of 
the  hull  was  left  lodged  upon  the  reef,  a  kind  of 
gaping  cavern,  with  the  surf  plunging  over  it  in 
cataracts,  and  a  mad  mob  of  boxes,  bales,  and 
wine-casks  tumbling  out  from  its  black  depths. 


no       Ube  Daimlers  of  tbe  Silences 

.Presently  the  torrent  ceased.  Then,  in  the 
yawning  gloom,  appeared  the  head  and  fore- 
quarters  of  a  white  horse,  mane  streaming,  eyes 
starting  with  frantic  terror  at  the  terrific  scene 
that  met  them.  The  vision  sank  back  instantly 
into  the  darkness.  A  moment  later  a  vast  surge, 
mightier  than  any  which  had  gone  before,  engulfed 
the  reef.  Its  gigantic  front  lifted  the  remnant  of 
the  wreck  half-way  across  the  barrier,  tipping  it 
forward,  and  letting  it  down  with  a  final  shattering 
crash;  and  the  white  horse,  hurled  violently 
forth,  sank  deep  into  the  tumult  behind  the  reef. 

The  schooner  which  had  fallen  on  such  sudden 
doom  among  the  St.  Lawrence  reefs  had  sailed 
from  Oporto  with  a  cargo,  chiefly  wine,  for  Quebec. 
Driven  far  south  of  her  course  by  a  terrific  north- 
easter roaring  down  from  Labrador,  she  had  run 
'into  a  fog  as  the  wind  fell,  and  been  swept  to  her 
fate  in  the  grip  of  an  unknown  tide-drift.  On 
board,  as  it  chanced,  travelling  as  an  honoured  pas- 
senger, was  a  finely  bred,  white  Spanish  stallion 
of  Barb  descent,  who  had  been  shipped  to  Canada 
by  one  of  the  heads  of  the  great  house  of  Robin, 
those  fishing-princes  of  Gaspe.  When  the  vessel 
struck,  and  it  was  seen  that  her  fate  was  imminent 
and  inevitable,  the  captain  had  loosed  the  beauti- 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TKHtlfc  m 

ful  stallion  from  his  stall,  that  at  the  last  he  might 
at  least  have  a  chance  to  fight  his  own  fight  for 
life.  And  so  it  came  about  that,  partly  through 
his  own  agile  alertness,  partly  by  the  singular 
favour  of  fortune,  he  had  avoided  getting  his 
slim  legs  broken  in  the  hideous  upheaval  and 
confusion  of  the  wreck. 

When  the  white  stallion  came  to  the  surface, 
snorting  with  terror  and  blowing  the  salt  from 
his  wide  nostrils,  he  struck  out  desperately,  and 
soon  cleared  the  turmoil  of  the  breakers.  Over 
the  vast,  smooth  swells  he  swam  easily,  his  grace- 
ful, high  head  out  of  water.  But  at  first,  in 
his  bewilderment  and  panic,  he  swam  straight 
seaward.  In  a  few  moments,  however,  as  he  saw 
that  he  seemed  to  be  overcoming  disaster  very 
well,  his  wits  returned,  and  the  nerve  of  his  breed- 
ing came  to  his  aid.  Keeping  on  the  crest  of  a 
roller,  he  surveyed  the  situation  keenly,  observed 
the  land,  and  noted  the  maze  of  reefs  that  tore  the 
leaden  surges  into  tumult.  Instead  of  heading 
directly  shoreward,  therefore,  —  for  every  boiling 
whiteness  smote  him  with  horror,  —  he  shaped 
his  course  in  on  a  long  slant,  where  the  way 
seemed  clear. 

Once  well  south  of  the  loud  herd  of  reefs,  he 


H2       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

swam  straight  inshore,  until  the  raving  and  white 
convulsion  of  the  surf  along  the  base  of  the  cliff 
again  struck  terror  into  his  heart;  and  again  he 
bore  away  southward,  at  a  distance  of  about  three 
hundred  yards  outside  the  breakers.  Strong, 
tough-sinewed,  and  endowed  with  the  unfailing 
wind  of  his  far-off  desert  ancestors,  he  was  not 
aware  of  any  fatigue  from  his  long  swim.  Pres- 
ently, rounding  a  point  of  rock  which  thrust  a  low 
spur  out  into  the  surges,  he  came  into  a  sheltered 
cove  where  there  was  no  surf.  The  long  waves 
rolled  on  past  the  point,  while  in  the  cove  there 
was  only  a  measured,  moderate  rise  and  fall  of  the 
gray  water,  like  a  quiet  breathing,  and  only  a 
gentle  back- wash  fringed  the  black-stoned,  weedy 
beach  with  foam.  At  the  head  of  the  cove  a  shal- 
low stream,  running  down  through  a  narrow 
valley,  emptied  itself  between  two  little  red  sand- 
spits. 

Close  beside  the  stream  the  white  stallion  came 
ashore.  As  soon  as  his  feet  were  quite  clear  of  the 
uppermost  fringe  of  foam,  as  soon  as  he  stood  on 
ground  that  was  not  only  firm,  but  dry,  he  shook 
himself  violently,  tossed  his  fine  head  with  a 
whinny  of  exultation,  and  turned  a  long  look  of 
hate  and  defiance  upon  the  element  from  which 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  Milo  113 

he  had  just  made  his  escape.  Then  at  a  deter- 
mined trot  he  set  off  up  the  valley,  eager  to  leave 
all  sight  and  sound  of  the  sea  as  far  as  possible 
behind  him. 

Reared  as  he  had  been  on  the  windy  and  arid 
plateau  of  Northern  Spain,  the  wanderer  was  filled 
with  great  loneliness  in  these  dark  woods  of  fir 
and  spruce.  An  occasional  maple  in  its  blaze  of 
autumn  scarlet,  or  a  clump  of  white  birch  in 
shimmering,  aerial  gold,  seen  unexpectedly  upon 
the  heavy-shadowed  green,  startled  him  like  a 
sudden  noise.  Nevertheless,  strange  though  they 
were,  they  were  trees,  and  so  not  altogether  alien 
to  his  memory.  And  the  brook,  with  its  eddying 
pools  and  brawling,  shallow  cascades,  that  seemed 
to  him  a  familiar,  kindly  thing.  It  was  only  the 
sea  that  he  really  feared  and  hated.  So  long  as 
he  was  sure  he  was  putting  the  huge  surges  and 
loud  reefs  farther  and  farther  behind  him,  he  felt 
a  certain  measure  of  content  as  he  pushed  onward 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  serried  gloom  and 
silence  of  the  spruce  woods.  At  last,  coming  to  a 
little  patch  of  brookside  meadow  where  the  grass 
kept  short  and  sweet  and  green  even  at  this  late 
season,  he  stopped  his  flight,  and  fell  to  pasturing. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  even  gray  mass  of 


U4       'Ebe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

cloud  which  for  days  had  veiled  the  sky  thinned 
away  and  scattered,  showing  the  clear  blue  of  the 
north.  The  sun,  near  setting,  sent  long  rays  of 
cheerful  light  down  the  narrow  valley,  bringing 
out  warm,  golden  bronzes  in  the  massive,  dull 
green  of  the  fir  and  spruce  and  hemlock,  and 
striking  sharp  flame  on  the  surfaces  of  the  smooth 
pools.  Elated  by  the  sudden  brightness,  the 
white  stallion  resumed  his  journey  at  a  gallop, 
straight  toward  the  sunset,  his  long  mane  and 
tail,  now  dry,  streaming  out  on  the  light  afternoon 
breeze  that  drew  down  betwreen  the  hills.  He  kept 
on  up  the  valley  till  the  sun  went  down,  and  then, 
in  the  swiftly  deepening  twilight,  came  to  a  little 
grassy  point  backed  by  a  steep  rock.  Here  where 
the  rippling  of  the  water  enclosed  him  on  three 
sides,  and  the  rock,  with  a  thick  mass  of  hemlocks 
surmounting  it,  shut  him  in  on  the  fourth,  he  felt 
more  secure,  less  desolate,  than  when  surrounded 
by  the  endless  corridors  of  the  forest;  and  close 
to  the  foot  of  the  rock  he  lay  down,  facing  the 
mysterious  gloom  of  the  trees  across  the  stream. 

Just  as  he  was  settling  himself,  a  strange  voice, 
hollow  yet  muffled,  cried  across  the  open  space 
"  Hoo-hoo,  hoo-hoo,  woo-hoo-hoo!  "  and  he  bounded 
to  his  feet,  every  nerve  on  the  alert.  He  had  never 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TKHilo  115 

in  his  life  before  heard  the  voice  of  the  great  horned 
owl,  and  his  apprehensive  wonder  was  excusable. 
Again  and  yet  again  came  the  hollow  call  out  of 
the  deep  dark  of  the  banked  woods  opposite.  As 
he  stood  listening  tensely,  eyes  and  nostrils  wide, 
a  bat  flitted  past  his  ears,  and  he  jumped  half 
around,  with  a  startled  snort.  The  ominous 
sound,  however,  was  not  repeated,  and  in  a  couple 
of  minutes  he  lay  down  again,  still  keeping  watch- 
ful eyes  upon  the  dark  mass  across  the  stream. 
Then,  at  last,  a  broad- winged  bird,  taking  shape 
softly  above  the  open,  as  noiseless  as  a  gigantic 
moth,  floated  over  him,  and  looked  down  upon 
him  under  his  rock  with  round,  palely  luminous 
eyes.  By  some  quick  intuition  he  knew  that  this 
visitor  was  the  source  of  the  mysterious  call.  It 
was  only  a  bird,  after  all,  and  no  great  thing  in 
comparison  with  the  eagles  of  his  own  Pyrenean 
heights.  His  apprehensions  vanished,  and  he 
settled  himself  to  sleep. 

Worn  out  with  days  and  nights  of  strain  and 
terror,  the  exile  slept  soundly.  Soon,  under  the 
crisp  autumn  starlight,  a  red  fox  crept  down 
circumspectly  to  hunt  mice  in  the  tangled  dry 
grasses  of  the  point.  At  sight  of  the  strange  white 
form  sleeping  carelessly  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  he 


n6       Ube  haunters  of  tbe  Silences 

bounded  back  into  cover,  startled  quite  out  of  his 
philosophic  composure.  He  had  never  before 
seen  any  such  being  as  that;  and  the  smell,  too, 
was  mysterious  and  hostile  to  his  wrinkling  fas- 
tidious nostrils.  Having  eyed  the  newcomer  for 
some  time  from  his  hiding-place  under  the 
branches,  he  crept  around  the  rock  and  surveyed 
him  stealthily  from  the  other  side.  Finding  no 
enlightenment,  or  immediate  prospect  of  it,  he 
again  drew  back,  and  made  a  careful  investigation 
of  the  stranger's  tracks,  which  were  quite  unlike 
the  tracks  of  any  creature  he  knew.  Finally  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  confine  his  hunting 
to  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  keeping  the 
stranger  under  surveillance  till  he  could  find  out 
more  about  him. 

Soon  after  the  fox's  going  a  tuft-eared  lynx 
came  out  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  and  with  round, 
bright,  cruel  eyes  glared  down  upon  the  grassy 
point,  half -hoping  to  see  some  rabbits  playing 
there.  Instead,  she  saw  the  dim  white  bulk  of  the 
sleeping  stallion.  In  her  astonishment  at  this 
unheard-of  apparition,  her  eyes  grew  wider  and 
whiter  than  before,  her  hair  stood  up  along  her 
back,  her  absurd  little  stub  of  a  tail  fluffed  out  to 
a  fussy  pompon,  and  she  uttered  a  hasty,  spitting 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  Wiilb  117 

growl  as  she  drew  back  into  the  shelter  of  the 
hemlocks.  In  the  dreaming  ears  of  the  sleeper 
this  angry  sound  was  only  a  growl  of  the  seas 
which  had  for  days  been  clamouring  about  the 
gloom  of  his  stall  on  the  ship.  It  disturbed  him 
not  at  all. 

At  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  at  that 
mystic  hour  when  Nature  seems  to  send  a  message 
to  all  her  animate  children,  preparing  them  for  the 
advent  of  dawn,  the  white  stallion  got  up,  shook 
himself,  stepped  softly  down  to  the  brook's  edge 
for  a  drink,  and  then  fell  to  cropping  the  grass 
wherever  it  remained  green.  The  forest,  though  to 
a  careless  ear  it  might  have  seemed  as  silent  as 
before,  had  in  reality  stirred  to  a  sudden,  ephem- 
eral life.  Far  off,  from  some  high  rock,  a  she-fox 
barked  sharply.  Faint,  muffled  chirps  from  the 
thick  bushes  told  of  junkos  and  chickadees  waking 
up  to  see  if  all  was  well  with  the  world.  The  mice 
set  up  a  scurrying  in  the  grass.  And  presently  a 
high-antlered  buck  stepped  out  of  the  shadows 
and  started  across  the  open  toward  the  brook. 

The  dark  buck,  himself  a  moving  shadow,  saw 
the  stallion  first,  and  stopped  with  a  loud  snort  of 
astonishment  and  defiance.  The  stallion  wheeled 
about,  eyed  the  intruder  for  a  moment  doubtfully, 


us       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

then  trotted  up  with  a  whinny  of  pleased  interro- 
gation. He  had  no  dread  of  the  antlered  visitor, 
but  rather  a  hope  of  companionship  in  the  vast 
and  overpowering  loneliness  of  the  alien  night. 

The  buck,  however,  was  in  anything  but  a 
friendly  mood.  His  veins  aflame  with  the  arrogant 
pugnacity  of  the  rutting  season,  he  saw  in  the 
white  stranger  only  a  possible  rival,  and  grew  hot 
with  rage  at  his  approach.  With  an  impatient 
stamping  of  his  slim  fore  hoofs,  he  gave  challenge. 
But  to  the  stallion  this  was  an  unknown  language. 
Innocently  he  came  up,  his  nose  stretched  out  in 
question,  till  he  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  mo- 
tionless buck.  Then,  to  his  astonishment,  the 
latter  bounced  suddenly  aside  like  a  ball,  stood 
straight  up  on  his  hind  legs,  and  struck  at  him  like 
lightning  with  those  keen-edged,  slim  fore  hoofs. 
It  was  a  savage  assault,  and  two  long,  red  furrows 
—  one  longer  and  deeper  than  the  other  —  ap- 
peared on  the  stallion's  silky,  white  flank. 

In  that  instant  the  wanderer's  friendliness 
vanished,  and  an  avenging  fury  took  its  place. 
His  confidence  had  been  cruelly  betrayed.  With 
a  harsh  squeal,  his  mouth  wide  open  and  lips  drawn 
back  from  his  formidable  teeth,  he  sprang  at  his 
assailant.  But  the  buck  had  no  vain  idea  of  stand- 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  "QGUlo  119 

ing  up  against  this  whirlwind  of  wrath  which  he 
had  evoked.  He  bounded  aside,  lightly  but 
hurriedly,  and  watched  for  an  opportunity  to 
repeat  his  attack. 

The  stallion,  however,  was  not  to  be  caught 
again;  and  the  dashing  ferocity  of  his  rushes 
kept  his  adversary  ceaselessly  on  the  move,  bound- 
ing into  the  air  and  leaping  aside  to  avoid  those 
disastrous  teeth.  The  buck  was  awaiting  what 
he  felt  sure  would  come,  the  chance  to  strike 
again;  and  his  confidence  in  his  own  supreme 
agility  kept  him  from  any  apprehension  as  to  the 
outcome  of  the  fight. 

But  the  buck's  great  weakness  lay  in  his  igno- 
rance, his  insufficient  knowledge  of  the  game  he 
was  playing.  He  had  no  idea  that  his  rushing 
white  antagonist  had  any  other  tactics  at  com- 
mand. When  he  gave  way,  therefore,  he  went 
just  far  enough  to  escape  the  stallion's  teeth  and 
battering  fore  feet.  The  stallion,  on  the  other 
hand,  soon  realized  the  futility  of  his  present 
method  of  attack  against  so  nimble  an  adversary. 
On  his  next  rush,  therefore,  just  as  the  buck 
bounced  aside,  he  wheeled  in  a  short  half -circle, 
and  lashed  out  high  and  far  with  his  steel-shod 
heels.  The  buck  was  just  within  the  most  deadly 


120       Ube  haunters  of  tbe  Silences 

range  of  the  blow.  He  caught  the  terrific  impact 
on  the  base  of  the  neck  and  the  forward  point  of 
the  shoulder,  and  went  down  as  if  an  explosive 
bullet  had  struck  him.  Before  he  could  even  stir 
to  rise,  the  stallion  was  upon  him,  trampling, 
battering,  squealing,  biting  madly;  and  the  fight 
was  done.  When  the  wanderer  had  spent  his 
vengeance,  and  paused,  snorting  and  wild-eyed, 
to  take  breath,  he  looked  down  upon  a  mangled 
shape  that  no  longer  struggled  or  stirred  or  even 
breathed.  Then  the  last  of  his  righteous  fury 
faded  out.  The  sight  and  smell  of  the  blood 
sickened  him,  and  in  a  kind  of  terror  he  turned 
away.  For  a  few  hesitating  moments  he  stared 
about  his  little  retreat  and  then,  finding  it  had 
grown  hateful  to  him,  he  forsook  it,  and  pushed 
onward  up  the  edge  of  the  stream,  between  the 
black,  impending  walls  of  the  forest. 

About  daybreak  he  came  out  on  the  flat,  marshy 
shores  of  a  shrunken  lake,  the  unstirred  waters 
of  which  gleamed  violet  and  pale-gold  beneath 
the  twisting  coils  and  drifting  plumes  of  white  va- 
pour. All  around  the  lake  stood  the  grim,  serried 
lines  of  the  firs,  under  a  sky  of  palpitating  opal. 
The  marshes,  in  their  autumn  colouring  of  burnt 
gold  and  pinky  olive,  with  here  and  there  a  little 


"  THE   SOUTHWARD  JOURNEYING    DUCKS,    WHICH   WOULD    DROP  WITH 
LOUD   QUACKING   AND   SPLASHING   INTO   THE   SHALLOWS" 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TWUI&  121 

patch  of  enduring  emerald,  caught  the  wanderer's 
fancy  with  a  faint  reminder  of  home.  Here  was 
pasture,  here  was  sweet  water,  here  was  room  to 
get  away  from  the  oppressive  mystery  of  the 
woods.  He  halted  to  rest  and  recover  himself;  and 
in  the  clear,  tonic  air,  so  cold  that  every  morning 
the  edges  of  the  lake  were  crisped  with  ice,  the 
aching  red  gashes  on  his  flank  speedily  healed. 

He  had  been  at  the  lake  about  ten  days,  and 
was  beginning  to  grow  restlessly  impatient  of  the 
unchanging  solitude,  before  anything  new  took 
place.  A  vividly  conspicuous  object  in  his  gleam- 
ing whiteness  as  he  roamed  the  marshes,  pasturing 
or  galloping  up  and  down  the  shore  with  streaming 
mane  and  tail,  he  had  been  seen  and  watched  and 
wondered  at  by  all  the  wild  kindreds  who  had  their 
habitations  in  the  woods  about  the  lake.  But 
they  had  all  kept  carefully  out  of  his  sight,  re- 
garding him  with  no  less  terror  than  wonder ;  and 
he  imagined  himself  utterly  alone,  except  for  the 
fish-hawks,  and  the  southward  journeying  ducks, 
which  would  drop  with  loud  quacking  and  splash- 
ing into  the  shallows  after  sunset,  and  the  owls, 
the  sombre  hooting  of  which  disturbed  him  every 
night.  Several  times,  too,  from  the  extreme  head 
of  the  lake  he  heard  a  discordant  call,  a  great  bray- 


i22       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

ing  bellow,  which  puzzled  him,  and  brought  him 
instantly  to  his  feet  by  a  note  of  challenge  in  it; 
but  the  issuer  of  this  hoarse  defiance  never  re- 
vealed himself.  Sometimes  he  heard  a  similar 
call,  with  a  difference  —  a  longer,  less  harshly 
blatant  cry,  the  under  note  of  which  was  one  of 
appeal  rather  than  of  challenge.  Over  both  he 
puzzled  in  vain;  for  the  moose,  bulls  and  cows 
alike,  had  no  wish  to  try  the  qualities  of  the  great 
white  stranger  who  seemed  to  have  usurped  the 
lordship  of  the  lake. 

At  last,  one  violet  evening  in  the  close  of  the 
sunset,  as  he  stood  fetlock-deep  in  the  chill  water, 
drinking,  a  light  sound  of  many  feet  caught  his 
alert  ear.  Lifting  his  head  quickly,  he  saw  a  herd 
of  strange-looking,  heavy-antlered,  whitish-brown 
deer  emerging  in  long  line  from  the  woods  and 
crossing  the  open  toward  the  foot  of  the  lake. 
The  leader  of  the  caribou  herd,  a  massive  bull, 
nearly  white,  with  antlers  almost  equal  to  those 
of  a  moose,  returned  the  stallion's  inquiring  stare 
with  a  glance  of  mild  curiosity,  but  did  not  halt 
an  instant.  It  was  plain  that  he  considered  his 
business  urgent;  for  the  caribou,  as  a  rule,  are 
nothing  if  not  curious  when  confronted  by  any 
strange  sight.  But  at  present  the  whole  herd, 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TKIUlo  123 

which  journeyed,  in  the  main,  in  single  file,  seemed 
to  be  in  a  kind  of  orderly  haste.  They  turned 
questioning  eyes  upon  the  white  stallion  as  they 
passed,  then  looked  away  indifferently,  intent  only 
upon  following  their  leader  on  his  quest.  The 
stallion  stood  watching,  his  head  high  and  his 
nostrils  wide,  till  the  very  last  of  the  herd  had 
disappeared  into  the  woods  across  the  lake.  Then 
the  loneliness  of  his  spacious  pasture  all  at  once 
quite  overwhelmed  him.  He  did  not  want  the 
company  of  the  caribou,  by  any  means,  or  he 
might  have  followed  them  as  they  turned  their 
backs  toward  the  sunset ;  but  it  was  the  dwellings 
of  men  he  wanted,  the  human  hand  on  his  mane, 
the  provendered  stall,  the  voice  of  kindly  com- 
mand, and  the  fellowship  of  his  kindred  of  the 
uncleft  hoof.  In  some  way  he  had  got  it  into  his 
head  that  men  might  be  found  most  readily  by 
travelling  toward  the  southwest.  Toward  the 
head  of  the  lake,  therefore,  and  just  a  little  south 
of  the  sunset's  deepest  glow,  he  now  took  his  way. 
He  was  done  with  the  lake  and  the  empty  marshes. 
From  the  head  of  the  lake  he  followed  up  a 
narrow  still-water  for  perhaps  half  a  mile,  crashing 
his  way  through  a  difficult  tangle  of  fallen,  rotting 
trunks  and  dense  underbrush,  till  he  came  out 


i24      Ube  Daunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

upon  another  and  much  smaller  lake,  very  different 
from  the  one  he  had  just  left.  Here  were  no 
meadowy  margins;  but  the  shores  were  steep 
and  thick- wooded  to  the  water's  edge.  Diagonally 
thrust  out  across  the  outlet,  and  about  a  hundred 
yards  above  it,  ran  a  low,  bare  spit  of  white  sand, 
evidently  covered  at  high  water.  Over  the  black 
line  of  the  woods  hung  a  yellow  crescent  moon, 
only  a  few  nights  old  and  near  setting. 

Coming  suddenly  from  the  difficult  gloom  of  the 
woods,  where  the  noise  of  his  own  movements 
kept  his  senses  occupied  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
else,  the  wanderer  stopped  and  stood  quite  still 
for  a  long  time  under  the  shadow  of  a  thick  hem- 
lock, investigating  this  new  world  with  ear  and 
eye  and  nostril.  Presently,  a  few  hundred  yards 
around  the  lake  shore,  to  his  left,  almost  opposite 
the  jutting  sand-spit,  arose  a  noisy  crashing  and 
thrashing  of  the  bushes.  As  he  listened  in  wonder, 
his  ears  erect  and  eagerly  interrogative,  the  noise 
stopped,  and  again  the  intense  silence  settled 
down  upon  the  forest.  A  minute  or  two  later  a 
big,  high-shouldered,  shambling,  hornless  creature 
came  out  upon  the  sand-spit,  stood  blackly  silhou- 
etted against  the  moonlight,  stretched  its  ungainly 
neck,  and  sent  across  the  water  that  harsh,  bleat- 


'IT     WAS     THE    COW    MOOSE    CALLING    FOR     HER    MATE.' 


a  Stranger  to  tbe  TKHUo  125 

ing  cry  of  appeal  which  he  had  been  hearing  night 
after  night.  It  was  the  cow  moose  calling  for  her 
mate.  And  in  almost  instant  answer  arose  again 
that  great  crashing  among  the  underbrush  on  the 
opposite  shore. 

With  a  certain  nervousness  added  to  his  curi- 
osity, the  white  stallion  listened  as  the  crashing 
noise  drew  near.  At  the  same  time  something  in 
his  blood  began  to  tingle  with  the  lust  of  combat. 
There  was  menace  in  the  approaching  sounds, 
and  his  courage  arose  to  meet  it.  All  at  once, 
within  about  fifty  yards  of  him,  and  just  across 
the  outlet,  the  noise  ceased  absolutely.  For  per- 
haps ten  minutes  there  was  not  a  sound,  —  not 
the  snap  of  a  twig  or  the  splash  of  a  ripple,  — except 
that  twice  again  came  the  call  of  the  solitary  cow 
standing  out  against  the  moon.  Then,  so  suddenly 
that  he  gave  an  involuntary  snort  of  amazement 
at  the  apparition,  the  wanderer  grew  aware  of  a 
tall,  black  bulk  with  enormous  antlers  which  took 
shape  among  the  undergrowth  not  ten  paces 
distant. 

The  wanderer's  mane  rose  along  his  arched 
neck,  his  lips  drew  back  savagely  over  his  great 
white  teeth,  fire  flamed  into  his  eyes,  and  for  a 
score  of  seconds  he  stared  into  the  wicked,  little, 


126       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

gleaming  eyes  of  the  bull  moose.  He  was  eager 
for  the  fight,  but  waiting  for  the  enemy  to  begin. 
Then,  as  noiselessly  and  miraculously  as  he  had 
come,  the  great  moose  disappeared,  simply  fading 
into  the  darkness,  and  leaving  the  stallion  all 
a-tremble  with  apprehension.  For  some  minutes 
he  peered  anxiously  into  every  black  thicket 
within  reach  of  his  eyes,  expecting  a  rushing 
assault  from  some  unexpected  quarter.  Then, 
glancing  out  again  across  the  lake,  he  saw  that 
the  cow  had  vanished  from  the  moonlit  point. 
Bewildered,  and  in  the  grasp  of  an  inexplicable 
trepidation,  he  waded  out  into  the  lake  belly-deep, 
skirted  around  the  south  shore,  climbed  the  steep 
slope,  and  plunged  straight  into  the  dark  of  the 
woods.  His  impulse  was  to  get  away  at  once  from 
the  mysteries  of  that  little,  lonely  lake. 

The  deep  woods,  of  course,  for  him  were  just 
as  lonely  as  the  lake,  for  his  heedless  trampling 
and  conspicuous  colouring  made  a  solitude  all 
about  him  as  he  went.  At  last,  however,  he 
stumbled  upon  a  trail.  This  he  adopted  gladly  as 
his  path,  for  it  led  away  from  the  lake  and  in  a 
direction  which  his  whim  had  elected  to  follow. 

Moving  now  on  the  deep  turf,  with  little  sound 
save  the  occasional  swish  of  branches  that  brushed 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TOUlo  127 

his  flanks,  he  began  to  realize  that  the  woods  were 
not  as  empty  as  he  had  thought.  On  each  side, 
in  the  soft  dark,  he  heard  little  squeaks  and  rus- 
tlings and  scurryings.  Rabbits  went  bounding 
across  the  trail,  just  under  his  nose.  Once  a  fox 
trotted  ahead  of  him,  looking  back  coolly  at  the 
great,  white  stranger.  Once  a  small,  stripe-backed 
animal  passed  leisurely  before  him,  and  a  whiff 
of  pungent  smell  annoyed  his  sensitive  nose. 
Wide  wings  winnowed  over  him  now  and  then, 
making  him  jump  nervously ;  and  once  a  pouncing 
sound,  followed  by  a  snarl,  a  squeal,  and  a  scuffle, 
moved  him  to  so  keen  an  excitement  that  he 
swerved  a  few  steps  from  the  trail  in  his  anxiety 
to  see  what  it  was  all  about.  He  failed  to  see 
anything,  however,  and  after  much  stumbling 
was  relieved  to  get  back  to  the  easy  trail  again. 
With  all  these  unusual  interests  the  miles  and  the 
hours  seemed  short  to  him;  and  when  the  gray 
of  dawri  came  filtering  down  among  the  trees,  he 
saw  before  him  a  clearing  with  two  low-roofed 
cabins  in  the  middle  of  it.  Wild  with  delight  at 
this  evidence  of  man's  presence,  he  neighed  shrilly, 
and  tore  up  to  the  door  of  the  nearest  cabin  at  full 
gallop,  his  hoofs  clattering  on  the  old  chips  which 
strewed  the  open. 


it 28       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

To  his  bitter  disappointment,  he  found  the 
cabin,  which  was  simply  an  old  lumber-camp, 
deserted.  The  door  being  ajar,  he  nosed  it  open 
and  entered.  The  damp,  cheerless  interior,  with 
no  furnishing  but  a  rusty  stove,  a  long  bench 
hewn  from  a  log,  and  a  tier  of  bunks  along  one 
side,  disheartened  him.  The  smell  of  human 
occupation  still  lingered  about  the  bunks,  but 
all  else  savoured  of  desertion  and  decay.  With 
drooping  head  he  emerged,  and  crossed  over  to 
the  log  stable.  That  horses  had  occupied  it  once, 
though  not  recently,  was  plain  to  him  through 
various  unmistakable  signs;  but  it  was  more  in 
the  hope  of  sniffing  the  scent  of  his  own  kind  than 
from  any  expectation  of  finding  the  stable  occu- 
pied that  he  poked  his  nose  in  through  the  open 
doorway. 

It  was  no  scent  of  horses,  however,  which  now 
greeted  his  startled  nostrils.  It  was  a  scent  quite 
unfamiliar  to  him,  but  one  which,  nevertheless, 
filled  him  with  instinctive  apprehension.  At  the 
first  whiff  of  it  he  started  back.  Then,  impelled 
by  his  curiosity,  he  again  looked  in,  peering  into 
the  gloom.  The  next  instant  he  was  aware  of  a 
huge  black  shape  leaping  straight  at  him. 
Springing  back  with  a  loud  snort,  he  wheeled 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  TKHilfc  129 

like  lightning,  and  lashed  out  madly  with  his 
heels. 

The  bear  caught  the  blow  full  in  the  ribs,  and 
staggered  against  the  door-post  with  a  loud, 
grunting  cough,  while  the  stallion  trotted  off 
some  twenty  yards  across  the  chips  and  paused, 
wondering.  The  blow,  in  all  probability,  had 
broken  several  of  the  bear's  ribs,  but  without 
greatly  impairing  his  capacity  for  a  fight;  and 
now,  in  a  blind  rage,  he  rushed  again  upon  the 
intruder  who  had  dealt  him  so  rude  a  buffet.  The 
stallion,  however,  was  in  no  fighting  mood.  De- 
pressed as  he  was  by  the  desolation  of  the  cabin, 
and  daunted  by  the  mysterious  character  of  this 
attack  from  the  dark  of  the  stable,  he  was  now 
like  a  child  frightened  of  ghosts.  Not  the  bear 
alone,  but  the  whole  place,  terrified  him.  Away 
he  went  at  full  gallop  across  the  clearing,  by  good 
fortune  struck  the  continuation  of  the  loggers' 
road,  and  plunged  onward  into  the  shadowy 
forest. 

For  a  couple  of  miles  he  ran,  then  he  slowed 
down  to  a  trot,  and  at  last  dropped  into  a  leisurely 
walk.  This  trail  was  much  broader  and  clearer 
than  the  one  which  had  led  him  to  the  camp,  and 
a  short,  sweet  grass  grew  along  it,  so  that  he  pas- 


130       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

tured  comfortably  without  much  loss  of  time. 
The  spirit  of  his  quest,  however,  was  now  so  strong 
upon  him  that  he  would  not  rest  after  feeding. 
Mile  after  mile  he  pressed  on,  till  the  sun  was  high 
in  the  clear,  blue  heavens,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
ancient  firs  were  short  and  luminous.  Then 
suddenly  the  woods  broke  away  before  him. 

Far  below  he  saw  the  blue  sea  sparkling.  But 
it  was  not  the  beauty  of  the  sea  that  held  his  eyes. 
From  his  very  feet  the  road  dropped  down  through 
open,  half -cleared  burnt  lands,  a  stretch  of  rough 
pasture-fields,  and  a  belt  of  sloping  meadow,  to  a 
little  white  village  clustering  about  an  inlet.  The 
clutter  of  roofs  was  homelike  to  his  eyes,  hungry 
with  long  loneliness;  the  little  white  church, 
with  shining  spire  and  cross,  was  very  homelike. 
But  nearer,  in  the  very  first  pasture-field,  just 
across  the  burnt  land,  was  a  sight  that  came  yet 
nearer  to  his  heart.  There,  in  a  corner  of  the 
crooked  snake-fence,  stood  two  bay  mares  and  a 
foal,  their  heads  over  the  fence  as  they  gazed  up 
the  hill  in  his  direction.  Up  went  mane  and  tail, 
and  loud  and  long  he  neighed  to  them  his  greeting. 
Their  answer  was  a  whinny  of  welcome,  and  down 
across  the  fields  he  dashed  at  a  wild  gallop  that 
took  no  heed  of  fences.  When,  a  little  later  in  the 


H  Stranger  to  tbe  1MUI&  131 

day,  a  swarthy  French-Canadian  farmer  came  up 
from  the  village  to  lead  his  mares  down  to  water, 
he  was  bewildered  with  delight  to  find  himself 
the  apparent  master  of  a  splendid  white  stallion, 
which  insisted  on  claiming  him,  nosing  him  joy- 
ously, and  following  at  his  heels  like  a  dog. 


Mben  tbe  OLoss  Come  Down 


[T  was  April,  and  the  time  of  freshet,  when 

"  Again  the  last  thin  ice  had  gone 
To  join  the  swinging  sea." 

After  the  ice  was  all  away  the  river  had  risen 
rapidly,  flooding  the  intervale  meadows,  till  in 
some  places  the  banks,  deep  under  water,  were 
marked  only  by  the  tops  of  the  alder  and  willow 
bushes,  and  by  a  line  of  elms  growing,  apparently, 
in  the  middle  of  a  lake.  Behind  these  elms  the 
water  was  as  still  as  a  lake;  but  in  front  of  them 
it  rushed  in  heavy  swirls,  swaying  the  alders  and 
willows,  and  boiling  with  swish  and  gurgle  around 
the  resolutely  opposing  trunks. 

Above  the  swollen  flood  of  water,  —  the  hurried 
retreat  of  the  last  snow  from  a  thousand  forest 
valleys  converging  around  the  river's  far-off 
source,  —  washed  softly  the  benign  and  illimitable 
flood  of  the  April  air.  This  air  seemed  to  carry 
with  reluctance  a  certain  fluctuating  chill,  caught 
from  the  icy  water.  But  in  the  main  its  burden 
132 


IHa  ben  tbe  Xogs  Come  H)own        133 

was  the  breath  of  willows  catkin  and  sprouting 
grass  and  the  first  shy  bloom  on  the  open  edges 
of  the  uplands.  It  was  the  characteristic  smell 
of  the  northern  spring,  tender  and  elusive,  yet 
keenly  penetrating.  If  gems  had  perfumes,  just 
so  might  the  opal  smell. 

Besides  the  fragrance  and  the  faint  chill,  the 
air  carried  an  April  music,  a  confusion  of  delicate 
sounds  that  seemed  striving  to  weave  a  tissue  of 
light  melody  over  the  steady,  muffled  murmur  of 
the  freshet.  In  this  melody  the  ear  could  differ- 
entiate certain  notes,  —  the  hum  of  bees  and  flies 
in  the  willow  bloom,  the  staccato  chirr,  chirr  of 
the  blackbirds  in  the  elm-tops,  the  vibrant  yet 
liquid  kong-kla-lee  of  the  redwings  in  the  alders, 
the  intermittent  ecstasy  of  a  stray  song-sparrow, 
the 'occasional  long  flute-call  of  a  yellowhammer 
across  the  flood,  and,  once  in  awhile,  a  sudden 
clamour  of  crows,  a  jangle  of  irrelevant,  broken 
chords.  From  time  to  time,  as  if  at  points  in  a 
great  rhythm  too  wide  for  the  ear  to  grasp,  all 
these  sounds  would  cease  for  a  second  or  two, 
leaving  the  murmur  of  the  flood  strangely  con- 
spicuous. 

The  colours  of  the  world  of  freshet  were  as 
delicately  thrilling  as  its  scents  and  sounds.  The 


134       ttbe  "fcaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

veiled  blue  pallor  of  the  sky  and  the  milky,  blue- 
gray  pallor  of  the  water  served  as  neutral  back- 
ground to  innumerable  thin  washes  and  stains  of 
tint.  Over  the  alders  a  bloom  of  lavender  and 
faint  russet,  over  the  willows  a  lacing  of  pale  yel- 
low, over  the  maples  a  veiling  of  rose-pink,  over 
the  open  patches  on  the  uplands  a  mist  that  hinted 
of  green,  and  over  the  further  hills  of  the  forest, 
broad,  smoky  smudges  of  indigo.  Here  and  there, 
just  above  the  reach  of  the  freshet,  a  pine  or  spruce 
interrupted  the  picture  emphatically  with  an 
intrusion  of  firm  green-black. 

Into  this  opalescent  scene,  some  days  before 
the  freshet  reached  its  height,  the  logs  began  to 
come  down.  In  the  upper  country  every  tributary 
stream  was  pouring  them  out  in  shoals,  —  heavy, 
blind,  butting,  and  blundering  shoals,  —  to  be 
carried  by  the  great  river  down  to  the  booms  and 
saws  above  its  mouth.  Some,  caught  in  eddies, 
were  thrust  aside  up  the  bank  to  lie  and  slowly 
rot  among  the  living  trees.  But  most,  darting 
and  wallowing  through  mad  rapids,  or  shooting 
falls,  or  whirling  and  circling  dully  down  the  more 
tranquil  reaches  of  the  tide,  made  shift  to  accom- 
plish their  voyage.  They  would  blacken  the  broad 
river  for  acres  at  a  time ;  and  then  again  straggle 


Iffilben  tbe  Xogs  Come  Down        135 

along  singly,  or  by  twos  and  threes.  It  was  a 
good  mn  of  logs  and  the  scattered  dwellers  along 
the  river  forgave  the  unusual  excesses  of  the  freshet,  • 
because  to  them  it  was  chiefly  important  that  all 
the  logs  of  the  winter's  chopping  should  be  got  out. 
On  a  single  log,  at  a  most  daunting  distance 
from  either  shore,  came  voyaging  a  lonely  and 
bedraggled  little  traveller.  This  particular  red 
squirrel  had  been  chattering  gaily  in  the  top  of  an 
old  tree  on  the  river-bank,  when  misfortune  took 
him  unawares.  The  tree  was  on  a  bluff  just  where 
a  small  but  very  turbulent  and  overswollen  stream 
flowed  in.  The  flood  had  stealthily  undermined 
the  bluff.  Suddenly  the  squirrel  had  felt  the  tree 
sway  ominously  beneath  him.  He  had  leaped  for 
safety,  but  too  late !  The  whole  bank  had  melted 
into  the  current.  By  great  luck,  the  squirrel  had 
managed  to  swim  to  a  passing  log.  Breathless 
and  all  but  drowned,  he  had  clambered  upon  it. 
Before  he  could  recover  his  wits  enough  to  make 
a  venture  for  shore,  the  vehement  lesser  stream 
had  swept  his  log  clean  out  into  mid-channel. 
Though  a  bold  enough  swimmer,  he  had  seen 
that  he  could  not  face  that  boiling  tide  with  any 
hope  of  success;  so  he  had  clung  to  his  unstable 
refuge  and  waited  upon  fate. 


136       ZTbe  1>aunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

For  perhaps  an  hour  the  squirrel  journeyed  thus 
without  incident  or  further  adventure.  Then,  in 
a  wide,  comparatively  sluggish  reach  of  the  river, 
some  whimsical  cross-current  had  borne  his  log 
over  to  the  neighbourhood  of  a  whole,  voyaging 
fleet  of  brown  timbers.  Unable  to  see  how  far 
this  group  extended,  the  squirrel  inferred  that  it 
might  possibly  afford  him  passage  to  the  shore. 
With  a  tremendous  leap  he  gained  the  nearest  of 
the  timber.  Thence  he  wrent  skipping  joyously, 
now  up  river  and  now  down,  skirting  wide  spaces 
of  clear  water,  and  twice  swimming  open  lanes  too 
broad  to  jump,  till  he  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  line  of  trees  that  marked  the 
flooded  bank.  Some  thirty  feet  beyond,  and  that 
much  nearer  safety,  one  more  log  floated  alone. 
The  plucky  little  animal  jumped  as  far  as  he  could, 
landed  with  a  splash,  and  swam  vigorously  for 
this  last  log.  He  gained  it,  and  was  just  dragging 
himself  out  upon  it,  when  there  was  a  rush  and 
heavy  break  in  the  water,  and  a  pair  of  big  jaws 
snapped  close  behind  him.  An  agonized  spring 
saved  him,  and  he  clung  flat,  quivering,  on  the  top 
of  the  log.  But  the  hungry  pickerel  had  captured 
nearly  half  his  tail. 

A  minute  or  two  later  he  had  recovered  from 


"THE  PLUCKY   LITTLE    ANIMAL  JUMPED   AS  PAR    AS   HE   COULD. 


Wben  tbe  Xogs  Come  Down        137 

this  shock;  and  thereupon  he  sat  up  and  chattered 
shrill  indignation,  twitching  defiantly  the  sore 
and  bleeding  stump.  This  outburst  perhaps 
relieved  his  feelings  a  little;  for  apparently  the 
red  squirrel  needs  to  give  his  emotions  vent  more 
than  any  other  member  of  the  wild  kindreds. 
But  he  had  learned  a  lesson.  He  would  not  again 
try  swimming  in  a  water  which  pickerel  inhabited. 
Then,  a  little  later,  he  learned  another.  A  fish- 
hawk  passed  overhead.  The  fish-hawk  would  not 
have  harmed  him  under  any  circumstances.  But 
the  squirrel  thought  of  other  hawks,  less  gentle- 
mannered  ;  and  he  realized  that  the  loud  volubility 
which  in  the  security  of  his  native  trees  he 
might  indulge  would  never  do  out  here  on 
his  shelterless  log.  He  stopped  his  complaints, 
crouched  flat,  and  scanned  the  sky  anxiously  for 
sign  of  other  hawks.  He  had  suddenly  realized 
that  he  was  now  naked  to  the  eyes  of  all  his 
enemies. 

Presently  a  new  terror  came  to  sap  his  courage. 
A  little  way  ahead  the  banks  were  high  and  the 
channel  narrow;  and  the  river,  no  longer  able  to 
relieve  the  freshet  strain  by  spreading  itself  over 
wide  meadows,  became  a  roaring  rapid.  The 
squirrel  heard  that  terrifying  roar.  He  noted  how 


138       Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

swiftly  it  was  approaching.  In  a  half-panic  he 
stared  about,  almost  ready  to  dare  the  pickerel 
and  make  a  try  for  shore,  rather  than  be  carried 
through  those  rapids. 

In  this  extremity  of  terror  he  saw  what,  at  other 
times,  would  have  frightened  him  almost  as  much 
as  hawk  or  .pickerel.  A  rowboat  slowly  drew 
near,  picking  its  way  through  the  logs.  The  one 
rower,  a  grizzled  old  river-man,  was  surging 
vigorously,  to  avoid  being  swept  down  into  the 
thunderous  narrows.  But  as  he  approached,  he 
noticed  the  trembling  squirrel  on  the  log.  In  a 
flash  he  took  in  the  situation.  With  a  sheepish 
grin,  as  if  ashamed  of  himself  for  troubling  about 
a  "  blame  squirrel,"  he  thrust  out  the  tip  of  an  oar 
toward  the  log,  with  a  sort  of  shy  invitation. 

The  squirrel,  fortunately  for  himself,  was  one  of 
those  animals  which  are  sometimes  open  to  a  new 
idea.  He  did  not  trust  the  man,  to  be  sure.  But 
he  trusted  him  more  than  he  did  the  rapids  ahead, 
and  feared  him  less  than  he  feared  the  pickerel. 
Promptly  he  skipped  aboard  the  boat,  and  perched 
himself  on  the  bow,  as  far  away  as  possible  from 
his  rescuer.  The  man  wasted  no  time  on  senti- 
mentalizing, but  pulled  as  hard  as  he  could  for 
shore.  When  near  the  bank,  however,  and  out  of 


TKHben  tbe  Xo0s  Come  2>ovw        139 

the  stress  of  the  current,  he  permitted  himself 
what  he  considered  a  piece  of  foolishness.  He 
turned  the  boat  about,  and  backed  in  till  the 
stern  touched  land.  He  wanted  to  see  what  the 
squirrel,  up  there  in  the  bow,  was  going  to  do 
about  it. 

The  little  animal  made  up  his  mind  quickly. 
Scared  but  resolute,  he  darted  along  the  gunwale. 
The  rower,  with  both  arms  outspread,  was  directly 
in  his  way.  He  hesitated,  gave  a  nervous  chirrup, 
then  launched  himself  high  into  the  air.  His  little 
feet  struck  smartly  on  the  top  of  the  man's  head. 
Then  he  was  off  up  the  bank  as  if  hawk  and 
pickerel  and  rapids  were  all  after  him  together. 
A  moment  later  from  the  thick  top  of  a  fir-tree 
came  his  shrill  chatter  of  triumph  and  defiance. 

"  Sassy  little  varmint! "  muttered  the  old 
river-man,  looking  up  at  him  with  indulgent  eyes. 


Duel  in  tfoe  2)eep 


there  was  no  wind,  the  wide 
surface  of  the  estuary  was  curiously  dis- 
turbed. In  from  the  open  sea  came 
swiftly  as  it  were  a  wedge  of  roughness,  its  edges 
lightly  dancing,  sparkling  with  blue-and-silver 
flashes.  The  strange  disturbance  kept  on  straight 
up  the  channel,  leaving  the  placid  shoals  along- 
shore to  shine  unruffled  in  the  low,  level-glancing 
Arctic  sun. 

Down  along  the  flat,  interminable  shore,  picking 
his  way  watchfully  among  the  ragged  ice-cakes  of 
the  tempestuous  spring,  came  a  huge  white  bear. 
His  small,  snaky,  cruel  head  was  bent  downwards, 
while  his  fierce  little  eyes  peered  among  the 
tumbled  ice  blocks  for'  possible  dead  fish.  His 
long,  loose-jointed  body  twisted  sinuously  as  he 
moved  —  the  only  living  creature  to  be  seen  up 
and  down  the  level  desolation  of  those  bleak  shores. 

The  white  bear  was  an  old  male,  restless,  and  of 
140 


a  Buel  in  tbe  Beep  141 

savage  temper.  Like  many  of  his  fellows  among 
the  older  males,  he  had  not  been  so  fortunate  as 
to  slumber  away  the  long,  terrific,  Arctic  winter 
in  the  shelter  of  a  snow-buried  rock.  All  through 
the  months  of  dark  and  tempest,  of  ghostly  auroras 
and  cold  unspeakable,  he  had  roamed  the  dead 
world  and  fought  his  fight  with  hunger.  His 
craft,  his  strength,  his  fierce  desperation  in  attack, 
had  pulled  him  through.  Lean  and  savage,  he 
sniffed  the  oncoming  of  spring,  and  watched  the 
ice  go  grinding  out. 

Presently  his  keen  ears  noted  a  faint  sound, 
which  seemed  to  blow  in  from  the  sea.  As  there 
was  no  wind,  this  was  worthy  of  note.  Lifting 
his  black  nose  high  above  the  ice-cakes,  he  sniffed 
and  peered  intently  at  the  inrushing  wedge  of 
tumbled  water.  His  uncertainty  was  not  for 
long.  The  salmon  were  returning.  This  was  the 
vanguard  of  the  spring  run. 

For  a  few  seconds  the  great  white  shape  stood 
as  if  turned  to  stone,  watching  the  radiant  confu- 
sion. Here  and  there  he  saw  a  slender  body  flash 
forth  for  an  instant,  half  its  length  above  the 
sparkling  water,  as  if  striving  to  escape  some 
unseen  enemy.  The  school  was  making  for  the 
main  channel,  which  ran  between  two  low,  naked 


M2       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

islets  of  rock,  perhaps  half  a  mile  apart.  The 
nearest  of  these  was  about  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  shore.  As  soon  as  the  bear  made  sure 
that  the  salmon  were  taking  this  course,  he  gal- 
loped at  top  speed  —  a  long,  loose,  shambling,  but 
rapid  pace  —  down  along  the  shore  till  just 
abreast  of  the  islet.  Then  he  plunged  in  and  swam 
for  it,  his  sharp  black  muzzle  and  narrow  white 
head  cleaving  the  smooth  flood  with  almost  in- 
credible swiftness,  and  throwing  off  an  oily,  trailing 
ripple  on  either  side.  When  he  reached  the  islet 
the  front  of  the  salmon  school  was  still  some  forty 
or  fifty  paces  distant.  He  crossed  the  rocks, 
slipped  smoothly  down  into  the  water  again,  and 
wraited  for  the  shining  turmoil  to  break  upon  him. 
For  some  reason  known  only  to  the  hosts  of  the 
salmon  themselves,  however,  the  shining  turmoil 
swerved  as  it  approached  the  islet,  crowding  over 
toward  the  other  side  of  the  channel.  The  bear's 
hungry  little  eyes  blazed  savagely  at  this.  He 
imagined  the  hordes  had  taken  alarm  at  his  dread 
presence,  —  a  natural  imagining  on  his  part, 
since  he  knew  of  nothing  but  the  old  bull  walrus 
that  dared  ever  await  his  approach.  But  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the  eager  myriads  of  the  salmon, 
thrilling  with  life  and  vigour  and  the  mating  fire  of 


H  2>uel  in  tbe  S>eep  143 

spring,  were  no  more  conscious  of  the  savage 
animal  than  if  he  had  been  a  rock  or  an  ice-floe. 
The  joy  of  the  incoming  rush  was  in  their  splendid 
sinews,  and  the  lure  of  the  shallow,  singing  rapids 
in  their  veins.  To  that  exultant  host  an  enemy, 
however  formidable,  was  but  an  incident.  The 
exhaustless  fertility  of  their  race  derided  fate. 

With  a  grunt  the  bear  launched  himself  through 
the  whitish  flood.  On  the  flanks  of  the  flashing 
host  he  dived,  swimming  sinuously  and  with 
extraordinary  swiftness  like  a  seal.  Rising  gradu- 
ally toward  the  surface,  he  struck  this  way  and 
that,  with  wide  jaws  and  armed  fore  paws,  among 
the  crowded  ranks  of  the  salmon.  His  object 
was  to  kill,  kill,  kill,  before  the  opportunity 
passed  by,  in  order  that  there  should  be  many 
dead  fish  to  drift  ashore  and  be  picked  up  at  his 
leisure. 

After  a  minute  or  two  of  this  savage  work, 
which  turned  the  thronged  tide  crimson  all  about 
him,  he  came  to  the  surface  for  breath.  The  upper 
ranks  of  the  salmon  were  still  flashing  on  every 
side,  and  half -leaping  out  of  water  within  the  very 
sweep  of  his  deadly  paw,  heedless  of  his  presence. 
His  hunger  being  fierce  upon  him,  he  now  seized  a 
good-sized  fish,  bit  its  backbone  through  to  put  an 


144       ftbe  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

end  to  its  troublesome  struggling,  and  devoured 
it  as  he  swam  along  slowly  with  the  host. 

Suddenly,  not  a  dozen  feet  ahead  of  his  nose,  a 
huge  salmon  seemed  to  be  lifted  horizontally  al- 
most clear  of  the  water.  It  writhed  and  thrashed 
for  a  second  in  a  sort  of  convulsion,  then  sank  with 
a  heavy  swirl.  The  bear  stared  curiously.  He  had 
never  seen  anything  like  that  before.  The  salmon 
had  not  jumped  of  its  own  accord,  that  was  evi- 
dent. It  had  apparently  been  held  up  from  below, 
firmly  and  steadily  sustained  as  it  struggled,  for 
that  brief  space  of  moments!  To  the  wild  crea- 
tures anything  new,  anything  unknown,  is  always 
either  interesting  or  terrifying.  The  white  bear 
was  unacquainted  with  terror,  but  he  was  inter- 
ested instantly.  He  swam  toward  the  spot  where 
the  salmon  had  sunk. 

The  next  moment  something  still  more  strange 
arrested  him.  A  little  to  one  side  of  the  spot  where 
the  salmon  had  behaved  so  curiously,  a  great 
sharp-pointed  spike  of  yellow  horn,  massive  and 
twisted,  was  thrust  up  about  three  feet  above  the 
water  and  instantly  withdrawn.  Blood  clung 
thinly  in  the  convolutions  of  the  horn.  It  was  a 
mysterious  and  menacing  wreapon.  Filled  with  a 
curiosity  that  was  now  warming  into  wrath,  the 


H  Duel  in  tbe  2>eep  MS 

bear  made  for  the  spot.  There  was  something 
like  defiance  in  that  sudden  upthrust.  Moreover, 
it  seemed  that  some  stranger  was  poaching  on  his 
fishing-grounds.  The  bear's  wrath  flamed  into 
fury  in  a  few  seconds.  Unable  to  see  down  into 
the  disturbed  and  discoloured  tide,  he  dived  deep, 
to  get  below  the  salmon  and  the  blood,  and  see 
what  manner  of  rival  it  was  with  which  he  had  to 
deal.  Whatever  it  was,  he  was  going  to  drive  it 
off  or  kill  it.  He  would  share  his  salmon  with  no  one. 

Meanwhile,  just  beneath  the  lowermost  ranks 
of  the  horde,  a  big,  pallid-skinned,  fish-like  crea- 
ture was  swimming  slowly  this  way  and  that. 
Shaped  something  like  a  porpoise,  with  a  big  bluff 
head  and  .tremendously  powerful  flukes,  it  be- 
longed evidently  to  the  great  kinship  of  the  whales. 
Its  massive  body  was  about  fourteen  feet  in 
length.  But  the  strange  thing  about  it,  setting  it 
wide  apart  from  all  its  cetacean  kin,  was  a  long, 
heavy,  twisted  horn  or  tusk,  of  yellow  ivory, 
jutting  straight  out  from  its  upper  jaw  to  a  length 
of  about  four  feet.  It  was  that  most  peculiar  of  all 
the  whales,  a  narwhal. 

From  time  to  time  this  ominous  shape  would 
launch  itself  upward  among  the  salmon,  transfix- 
ing some  of  the  largest  fish  with  lightning  thrusts 


146       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

of  its  tusk,  and  killing  others  by  terrible,  thrashing 
side-blows  of  the  weapon.  Sometimes  it  would 
open  its  great  mouth  and  engulf  the  most  con- 
venient victim;  but  it  did  not  seem  ravenous. 
Its  hunger  was  already  all  but  glutted,  and  its 
purpose  seemed  to  be,  mainly,  to  kill,  in  order  that 
food  might  still  be  abundant  after  the  salmon  had 
passed  on  up  the  river  beyond  his  reach. 

When  the  white  bear,  swimming  under  water 
outstretched  like  an  otter,  saw  this  threatening 
form,  his  veins  ran  fire.  Darting  downward, 
easily  as  a  mink  might  have  done,  he  struck  the 
unsuspecting  narwhal  in  the  middle  of  the  back 
just  between  the  flippers.  His  mighty  fore  paws, 
armed  with  claws  like  knife-blades,,  tore  two 
gaping*  wounds  in  the  narwhal's  hide,  and  the 
dark  blood  jetted  forth.  But  the  wounds  went 
little  below  the  blanket  of  blubber  which  enclosed 
the  narwhal  underneath  his  hide.  Beyond  the 
pain  of  those  two  tearing  buffets,  the  great  sea- 
beast  was  little  the  worse  of  them.  With  a  surge 
of  his  tail  he  lunged  forward,  and  turned  furiously 
upon  his  assailant. 

The  bear,  though  rash  in  his  arrogance  and 
rage,  was  no  mere  headlong  blunderer.  Though 
he  mistook  the  narwhal  for  some  kind  of  gigantic 


H  H>uel  in  tbe  2>eep  M? 

seal,  and  therefore  scorned  him,  he  had  not  missed 
the  possibilities  of  that  long,  menacing  horn.  He 
was  upon  his  foe  again  in  an  instant,  not  giving 
him  time  to  charge,  and  successfully  planted 
another  rending  stroke  which  disabled  the  nar- 
whal's right  flipper.  Then,  however,  finding  that 
he  could  hold  his  breath  no  longer  after  such 
terrific  exertion,  he  darted  to  the  surface,  and 
hurriedly  refilled  his  lungs. 

To  regain  his  breath  took  him  but  a  moment, 
and  instantly  aware  of  his  peril  while  at  the  sur- 
face, he  dived  again  to  renew  his  attack.  As  he 
dived,  either  his  own  craft  or  some  subtle  fore- 
warning led  him  to  twist  sharply  to  one  side.  But 
for  this,  his  fighting  would  have  ended  then  and 
there,  his  heart  split  by  the  thrust  of  that  giant 
tusk.  As  it  was,  the  mad  upward  rush  of  the 
narwhal  missed  its  aim.  The  bear  felt  a  couple 
of  salmon  hurled  in  his  face.  Then  the  horn  shot 
past  his  neck;  and  a  black  mass  smote  him  full 
in  the  chest,  with  a  force  that  knocked  the  wind 
out  of  him,  and  bore  him,  clawing  and  biting 
passionately,  back  to  the  surface.  His  blows,  of 
course,  were  delivered  blindly,  but  one  struck 
home  just  above  the  narwhal's  sinister  little  eye, 
wiping  it  out  of  existence. 


148       ZTbe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

As  the  bear  got  his  head  above  water,  he  choked 
and  gasped,  swimming  high  for  a  few  seconds  in 
the  struggle  to  recover  his  breath.  Realizing  now 
to  the  full  how  dangerous  an  adversary  he  had 
challenged,  he  knew  that  every  second  he  remained 
at  the  surface  was  a  deadly  peril.  But,  at  first, 
the  breath  would  not  return  to  his  buffeted  lungs. 
With  his  nose  high  in  air  he  gave  a  longing  look 
away  across  the  tumult  of  the  journeying  host, 
across  the  tranquil  white  water  beyond,  to  the 
low,  desolate  shore  with  its  dirty  ice-cakes.  For 
the  moment,  he  wished  himself  back  there.  Then, 
as  he  regained  his  breath,  and  his  great,  bellows- 
like  lungs  resumed  their  function,  his  courage  and 
his  fighting  fury  also  returned.  The  red  light  of 
battle  blazed  up  again  in  his  eyes,  and  wheeling 
half-about  with  a  violence  that  sent  the  water 
swirling  and  foaming  from  his  mighty  shoulders 
and  hurled  a  score  of  salmon  upon  each  other's 
backs,  he  dropped  his  head  to  dive  once  more  into 
the  fight. 

The  narwhal,  for  his  part,  had  fared  badly  in 
that  last  encounter.  With  one  eye  blinded,  his 
head  badly  clawed,  and  the  tough  cartilage  about 
his  blow-holes  torn  deeply  by  his  adversary's 
teeth,  he  was  bewildered  for  the  moment.  But 


H  Buel  in  tbe  2)eep  149 

he  was  not  daunted.  His  sluggish  blood  only 
boiled  to  a  blacker  fury.  Never  before  had  he 
met  anything  like  serious  opposition.  The  colossal 
sperm-whale,  undisputed  lord  of  the  ocean,  never 
came  into  these  cold  northern  waters;  and  the 
huge,  blundering  whalebone  whales  he  despised. 
He  had  transfixed  and  slaughtered  the  helpless 
calves  of  this  species  under  the  very  fins  of  their 
gigantic  but  timorous  mothers.  He  had  pierced 
seals,  and  even,  once,  a  walrus.  Terribly  armed 
as  he  was,  and  swift,  and  powerful,  he  had  never 
yielded  way  to  any  other  inhabitant  of  his  cold 
and  glimmering  world. 

For  a  few  moments  of  agitated  confusion, 
flurried  by  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  he  swam 
straight  ahead,  just  below  the  salmon.  Then, 
recovering  his  wits,  he  turned  in  a  rage  and  looked 
about,  with  his  one  remaining  eye,  for  the  bear. 
At  first,  unable  immediately  to  readjust  his  vision, 
he  could  not  locate  him;  but  presently,  staring 
up  vindictively  through  the  straight-swimming, 
blue  and  silver  ranks  of  the  journeying  fish,  he  saw 
the  big  white  form  swimming  at  the  surface  some 
little  distance  away.  Up  through  the  thronged 
and  swirling  tide  he  darted  on  a  long  slant,  straight 
and  swift  as  a  hungry  trout  rising  to  a  May-fly. 


150       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

As  the  bear,  with  lowered  head  and  great 
haunches  uplifted  began  his  dive,  he  felt  a  terrible, 
grinding  thrust  in  his  left  flank,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  a  rock  from  the  floor  of  the  channel  rose  up  and 
smote  him,  half -lifting  him  from  the  water  The 
narwhal,  his  aim  confused  by  the  blinding  of  one 
eye,  had  again  failed  to  strike  true.  The  point  of 
his  tusk  had  caught  the  bear's  flank  on  such  a  slant 
that  it  did  not  penetrate  to  any  vital  organ,  but 
ran  up,  perhaps  an  inch  below  the  hide,  between 
the  outermost  curve  of  two  of  the  upper  ribs,  and 
reappeared  a  little  behind  the  shoulder.  The 
tremendous  force  of  that  upward  rush  carried  the 
great  twisted  horn  right  through  to  its  very  base. 

Having  delivered  what  he  felt  must  be  a  fatal 
and  final  blow,  the  narwhal  at  once  backed  down- 
ward with  powerful  surges  of  his  tail,  trying  to 
withdraw  his  horn.  But  now  he  found  himself 
in  a  deadly  trap.  The  bear,  mad  with  pain,  and 
held  firmly,  proceeded  to  enwrap  his  adversary's 
whole  head  in  a  frightful  embrace.  Slashing, 
tearing,  ripping,  with  all  four  desperate  paws  at 
once,  he  was  speedily  shredding  the  narwhal's 
head  to  fragments.  With  mad  thrashings  the 
narwhal  struggled  to  break  loose,  but  in  vain. 
Down  he  sank,  till  he  lay  upon  the  bottom,  that 


'THEN,  WITH    THE    LARGEST    PRIZE    IN     HIS    JAWS, 
HE    SWAM     SLOWLY    TO    THE    ROCK." 


a  H)uel  in  tbe  Deep  151 

destroying  bulk  still  fixed  upon  his  head.  When 
he  felt  the  solid  ground  beneath  him  he  bent  his 
mighty  body  like  a  bow,  and  sprung  it,  with  a 
force  that  nothing  could  resist.  His  horn  tore 
itself  free,  the  bear  was  flung  loose,  and  he 
lurched  to  one  side  with  a  violence  that  threw  the 
swimming  salmon  overhead  into  confusion  and 
sent  great  surges  boiling  to  the  surface.  Then, 
blind,  shattered,  and  jetting  blood  in  torrents 
from  his  gaping  throat,  he  settled  upon  the  bottom, 
writhed  feebly  for  a  few  minutes,  and  lay  still. 

The  bear,  plunging  upward  through  the  close 
ranks  of  the  salmon,  began  to  cough  hoarsely  as 
soon  as  he  got  his  head  above  water.  It  was  some 
moments  before  he  could  do  more  than  keep 
himself  afloat  while  he  regained  his  breath.  Then 
he  began  slowly  swimming  round  and  round  in  a 
circle,  still  full  of  battle  rage,  but  not  yet  able  to 
control  his  lungs.  At  last,  he  felt  equal  to  seeking 
a  renewal  of  the  fight.  Once  more  he  dived,  ex- 
pecting at  any  instant  to  feel  again  that  grinding 
thrust,  that  resistless  upward  blow.  Below  the 
salmon  throng  he  peered  about  through  the  glim- 
mer. Far  down,  he  made  out  the  shape  of  his 
opponent,  lying  motionless  on  the  bottom.  Ob- 
viously, there  was  nothing  more  to  be  feared  from 


152       ZTbe  t>aunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

that  still  bulk,  which  seemed  to  sway  gently  in 
the  current.  The  victor  returned  to  the  surface. 
Lifting  his  head  high  above  the  water,  he 
scanned  the  whole  empty,  pallid  world.  No 
enemy,  no  possible  rival,  was  to  be  seen.  Weak  as 
he  was  and  weary,  he  killed  two  or  three  more  of 
the  ceaselessly  passing  salmon  just  to  reassure 
himself.  Then,  with  the  largest  prize  in  his  jaws, 
he  swam  slowly  to  the  rock,  crawled  ashore,  and 
lay  down  in  sullen  triumph  to  lick  his  wounds. 


;LAY    DOWN    IN*  SULLEN    TRIUMPH    TO    LICK    HIS    WOUNDS." 


Xtttle  d^rant  of  tbe  Burrows 


[LONG  the  edge  of  the  woodland  he 
found  the  young,  green  turf  of  the 
pasture  close  and  soft.  As  he  paused 
for  a  moment  with  his  long,  trunk-like  nose 
thrust  into  it,  his  fine  sense  could  detect  noth- 
ing but  the  cool  tang  of  the  grass-stems,  the 
light  pungency  and  sweetness  of  the  damp  earth 
below.  With  a  savage  impatience  of  movement 
he  jerked  himself  a  foot  or  more  to  one  side,  and 
again  thrust  his  nose  into  the  turf.  Here  he  evi- 
dently detected  something  more  to  his  taste  than 
the  sweetness  of  grass  and  earth,  for  he  began  to 
dig  fiercely,  biting  the  matted  roots  apart,  and 
tearing  up  the  soil  with  his  powerful  little  fore 
paws.  In  a  few  seconds  he  dragged  forth  a  fat, 
cream-coloured  grub  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
length,  with  a  copper-coloured  head.  The  grub 
twisted  and  lashed  about,  but  was  torn  apart  and 
eaten  on  the  spot.  The  victor  ate  furiously,  wrin- 
153 


154       'Ebe  t»aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

kling  his  flexible  snout  away  from  his  prey  in  a 
manner  that  gave  him  a  peculiarly  ferocious, 
snarling  expression. 

Nearly  six  inches  in  length,  with  a  round,  sturdy 
body,  short  tail,  very  short,  sturdy  legs,  and  fine 
fur  of  a  clouded  leaden  gray,  this  fierce  and  implac- 
able little  forager  might  have  been  mistaken  by 
the  careless  observer  for  an  ordinary  mole.  But 
such  a  mistake  on  the  part  of  any  creature  not 
larger  than  a  ground-sparrow  or  wood-mouse  or 
lizard  would  have  resulted  in  instant  doom;  for 
this  tiny  beast,  indomitable  as  a  terrier  and  greedy 
for  meat  as  a  mink,  was  the  mole-shrew. 

Having  devoured  the  fat  grub,  and  finding  his 
appetite  still  unappeased,  the  shrew  at  once  re- 
sumed his  vehement  digging.  His  marvellously 
developed  nostrils  had  assured  him  that  a  little 
farther  on  beneath  the  turf  were  more  grubs,  or 
well-conditioned  earthworms,  or  the  stupid,  big 
red-brown  beetles  called  "  May-bugs."  In  a  few 
seconds  only  his  hind  quarters  were  visible 
among  the  grass-roots.  Then,  only  a  twitch  of 
his  short  tail,  or  a  kick  of  his  hind  claws.  At  this 
moment  a  broad,  swift  shadow  appeared  overhead ; 
and  a  hungry  marsh-hawk,  dropping  like  ^  shot, 
clutched  with  eager  claws  at  the  mouth  of  the 


Ube  Xittle  U^rant  of  tbe  Burrows    155 

burrow.  That  deadly  clutch  tore  up  some  grass- 
roots and  some  fresh  earth,  but  just  failed  to 
reach  the  diligent  burrower.  Tail  and  hind  legs 
had  been  nimbly  drawn  in  just  in  time,  as  if  fore- 
warned of  the  swooping  peril ;  and  the  hawk  flew  off 
heavily,  to  resume  his  quartering  of  the  pasture. 

Unruffled  by  his  narrow  escape,  the  shrew  went 
on  with  his  burrowing.  He  ran  his  gallery  very 
near  the  surface,  —  in  fact,  close  under  the  roots 
of  the  turf,  where  the  grubs  and  beetles  were 
most  numerous.  Sometimes  he  would  dip  an 
inch  or  more,  to  avoid  a  bit  of  difficult  excavation ; 
but  more  often  he  would  press  so  closely  to  the 
surface  that  the  thin  layer  of  sod  above  him 
would  heave  with  every  surging  motion.  The 
loose  earth,  for  the  most  part,  was  not  thrust 
behind  him,  but  jammed  to  either  side  or  overhead, 
and  so  vigorously  packed  in  the  process  as  to  make 
strong  walls  to  the  galleries,  which  zigzagged 
hither  and  thither  as  the  moment's  whim  or.  the 
scent  of  some  quarry  might  dictate. 

In  the  absolute  darkness  of  his  straitened  under- 
world the  shrew  felt  no  consciousness  of  restric- 
tion. His  eyes  tight  closed,  the  thick  earth  press- 
ing upon  him  at  every  point,  he  felt  nevertheless 
as  free  as  if  all  the  range  of  upper  air  were  his. 


156       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

The  earthy  dark  was  nothing  to  him,  for  the 
nerves  of  his  marvellous  nose  served  all  the  pur- 
poses of  sight  and  hearing.  It  was,  indeed,  as  if 
he  heard,  felt,  smelled,  and  saw,  all  with  his  nose. 
If  the  walls  of  the  narrow  tunnel  pressed  him  too 
straitly,  he  could  expand  them  by  a  few  seconds 
of  digging.  In  fact,  his  underground  world,  limited 
as  it  was,  for  the  moment  contented  him  utterly. 
From  time  to  time  he  would  scent,  through  per- 
haps a  quarter-inch  of  earth,  a  worm  or  a  grub 
ahead  of  him.  Then  he  would  drive  forward 
almost  with  a  pounce,  clutch  the  prey,  and'  devour 
it  delightedly  there  in  the  dark. 

Suddenly  the  earth  broke  away  before  him, 
and  his  investigating  nose  poked  itself  through 
into  another  gallery,  a  shade  larger  than  his  own. 
The  fact  that  the  gallery  was  larger  than  his  own 
might  well  have  made  him  draw  back,  but  his  was 
not  the  drawing-back  disposition.  His  nose  told 
him  that  the  rival  digger  was  a  mole,  and  had  but 
recently  gone  by.  Without  a  second's  hesitation 
he  clawed  through,  and  darted  down  the  new 
tunnel,  seeking  either  a  fight  or  a  feast,  as  fate 
might  please  to  award. 

In  his  savage  haste,  however,  the  shrew  was 
not  discriminating;  and  all  at  once  he  realized 


ZTbe  Xittle  Tyrant  of  tbe  IBurrows    157 

that  he  had  lost  the  fresh  scent.  This  was  still 
the  mole's  gallery,  but  there  was  no  longer  any 
sign  that  its  owner  had  very  lately  traversed  it. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  several  yards  back  the  shrew 
had  blundered  past  the  mouth  of  a  branching 
tunnel,  up  which  the  mole,  ignorant  that  he  was 
being  pursued,  had  taken  leisurely  way.  The 
pursuer  stopped,  hesitating  for  a  moment,  then 
decided  to  push  ahead  and  see  what  might  turn 
up.  In  half  a  minute  a  breath  of  the  upper  air  met 
him,  —  then  a  star  of  light  glimmered  before 
him,  —  and  he  came  out  at  one  of  the  exits  which 
the  mole  had  used  for  dumping  earth. 

At  this  point  the  shrew  seemed  to  decide  that 
he  had  had  enough  of  underground  foraging.  He 
stuck  his  head  up  through  the  opening,  and  looked 
over  the  green  turf.  The  opening  was  close  to  a 
pile  of  stones  in  the  fence  corner,  which  promised 
both  shelter  and  good  hunting.  Having  hastily 
dusted  the  loose  earth  from  his  face  and  whiskers, 
he  emerged,  ran  to  the  stone  heap,  and  whisked 
into  the  nearest  crevice. 

On  a  warm  gray  stone  near  the  top  of  the  pile, 
gently  waving  its  wings  in  the  sunshine,  glowed 
a  gorgeous  red-and-black  butterfly.  The  intensity 
of  its  colouring  seemed  to  vibrate  in  the  unclouded 


158         Ube  Ifoaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

radiance.  Suddenly,  from  just  beneath  the  stone 
on  which  it  rested,  slipped  forth  the  shrew,  and 
darted  at  it  with  a  swift,  scrambling  leap.  The 
beautiful  insect,  however,  was  wide  awake,  and 
saw  the  danger  in  good  time.  One  beat  of  its 
wide,  gorgeous  wings  uplifted  its  light  body  as  a 
breath  softly  uplifts  a  tuft  of  thistledown.  The 
baffled  shrew  jumped  straight  into  the  air,  but  in 
vain;  and  the  great  butterfly  went  flickering  off 
aimlessly  and  idly  over  the  pasture  to  find  some 
less  perilous  basking- place. 

Angered  by  this  failure,  the  shrew  descended 
the  stone  heap  and  scurried  over  to  the  fence, 
poking  his  nose  under  every  tussock  of  weeds  in 
search  of  the  nest  of  some  ground-bird.  Along 
parallel  with  the  fence  he  hunted,  keeping  out 
about  a  foot  from  the  lowest  rail.  He  found  no 
nest ;  but  suddenly  the  owners  of  a  nest  that  was 
hidden  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  found 
him.  He  felt  himself  buffeted  by  swift,  elusive 
wings.  Sharp  little  beaks  jabbed  him  again  and 
again,  and  the  air  seemed  full  of  angry  twittering. 
For  a  few  moments  he  stood  his  ground  obsti- 
nately, wrinkling  back  his  long  snout  and  jumping 
at  his  bewildering  assailants.  Then,  realizing 
that  he  could  do  nothing  against  such  nimble  foes, 


"THE   BAFFLED  SHREW  JUMPED   STRAIGHT  INTO  THE  AIR." 


TIbe  OLittle  Usrant  ot  tbe  Burrows   159 

he  drew  back  and  ran  under  the  fence.  He  was 
not  really  hurt,  and  he  was  not  at  all  terrified ;  but 
he  was  distinctly  beaten,  and  therefore  in  a  very 
bad  temper. 

Since  his  return  to  the  green  upper  world  ill 
luck  had  persistently  followed  his  ventures,  and 
now  his  thoughts  turned  back  to  the  burrows 
under  the  grass-roots.  He  remembered,  also, 
that  mole  which  had  so  inexplicably  evaded  him. 
Keeping  close  to  the  fence,  he  hurried  back  to  the 
stone  heap,  on  the  other  side  of  which  lay  the 
entrance  to  the  burrows.  He  was  just  about  to 
make  a  hurried  and  final  investigation  of  the  pile, 
on  the  chance  that  it  might  conceal  something 
to  his  taste,  when  his  nose  caught  a  strong  scent 
which  made  him  stop  short  and  seem  to  shrink 
into  his  skin.  At  the  same  instant  a  slim,  long, 
yellow-brown  animal  emerged  from  the  stones, 
cast  a  quick,  shifting  glance  this  way  and  that, 
then  darted  at  him  as  smoothly  as  a  snake.  With 
a  frantic  leap  he  shot  through  the  air,  alighting 
just  beside  the  mouth  of  the  burrow.  The  next 
instant  he  had  vanished ;  and  the  weasel,  arriving 
just  a  second  too  late,  thrust  his  fierce,  triangular 
face  into  the  hole,  but  made  no  attempt  to  squeeze 
himself  down  a  passage  so  restricted. 


160       ZTbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silettces 

The  shrew  had  been  terrified,  indeed;  but  his 
dogged  spirit  was  by  no  means  cowed  or  given 
over  to  panic.  He  felt  fairly  confident  that  the 
weasel  was  too  big  to  pursue  him  down  the  burrow, 
but  presently  he  stopped,  scraped  away  the  earth 
on  one  side,  and  turned  around  to  face  the  menace. 
Small  though  he  was,  the  weasel  would  have  found 
him  a  troublesome  and  daring  antagonist  in  such 
narrow  quarters.  When  he  saw  a  glimmer  of 
light  reappear  at  the  entrance  of  the  burrow,  he 
understood  that  his  big  enemy  was  not  going  to 
attempt  the  impossible.  Reassured,  but  still  hot 
with  wrath,  he  turned  again,  and  went  racing 
through  the  black  tunnel  in  search  of  something 
whereon  to  wreak  his  emotions. 

Now  as  the  fates  of  the  underworld  would  have 
it,  at  this  moment  the  lazy  old  mole  who  owned 
these  burrows  was  returning  from  his  tour  of  inves- 
tigation. He  came  to  the  fork  where  the  shrew 
had  gone  by  an  hour  before.  The  strong,  disagree- 
able, musky  smell  of  the  intruder  arrested  him. 
His  keen  nose  sniffed  at  it  with  resentment  and 
alarm,  and  told  him  the  whole  story,  there  in  the 
dark,  more  plainly  than  if  it  had  passed  in  daylight 
before  his  purblind  eyes.  It  told  him  that  some 
time  had  gone  by  since  the  intruder's  passing. 


WITH    A    FRANTIC    LEAP    HE    SHOT 


THROUGH    THE    AIR. 


TIbe  OLittle  Uprant  of  tbe  Burrows    161 

But  what  it  could  not  tell  him  was  that  the  in- 
truder was  just  now  on  his  way  back.  After  some 
moments  of  hesitation  the  long,  cylindrical,  limp 
body  of  the  mole  scuffled  out  into  the  main  tunnel, 
and  turned  toward  the  exit.  Its  movement  was 
rather  slow  and  awkward,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  fore  legs  were  set  on  each  side  of  the  body, 
like  flippers,  which  was  an  excellent  arrangement 
for  digging,  but  a  very  bad  one  for  plain  walking. 

The  mole  had  not  advanced  more  than  a  yard 
or  so  along  the  main  tunnel  when  again  that 
strong,  musky  smell  smote  his  nostrils.  This 
time  it  was  fresh  and  warm.  Indeed,  it  was  start- 
lingly  imminent.  Elongating  his  soft  body  till  it 
was  not  more  than  half  its  usual  thickness,  the 
mole  doubled  in  his  tracks,  intent  upon  the  speedi- 
est possible  retreat.  In  that  very  instant,  while 
he  was  in  the  midst  of  this  awkward  effort  to  turn, 
the  shrew  fell  upon  him,  gripping  and  tearing  his 
soft,  unprotected  flank. 

The  mole  was  not  altogether  deficient  in  char- 
acter; and  he  was  larger  and  heavier  than  his 
assailant.  Seeing  that  escape  was  impossible, 
and  stung  by  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  he  flung 
himself  with  energy  into  the  struggle,  biting  des- 
perately and  striving  to  bear  down  his  lighter 


i62       zrbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

opponent.  It  was  a  blind  smother  of  a  fight,  there 
in  that  pitch-black  narrow  tunnel  whose  walls 
pressed  ceaselessly  upon  it  and  hemmed  it  in. 
From  the  smother  came  no  sound  but  an  occa- 
sional squeak  of  rage  or  pain,  barely  audible  to 
the  lurking  spiders  among  the  grass-stems  just 
overhead.  The  thin  turf  heaved  vaguely,  and  the 
grass-blades  vibrated  to  the  unseen  struggle;  but 
not  even  the  low-flying  marsh-hawk  could  guess 
the  cause  of  these  mysterious  disturbances. 

For  several  minutes  the  mole  made  a  good  fight. 
Then  the  indomitable  savagery  of  his  enemy's 
attack  suddenly  cowed  him.  He  shrank  and  tried 
to  draw  away;  and  in  that  moment  the  enemy 
had  him  by  the  throat.  In  that  moment  the  fight 
was  ended;  and  in  the  next  the  invader  was 
satisfying  his  ravenous  appetite  on  the  warm  flesh 
which  he  craved. 

When  this  redoubtable  little  warrior  had  eaten 
his  fill,  he  felt  a  pleasant  sense  of  drowsiness. 
First  he  moved  a  few  feet  farther  along  the  tunnel, 
till  he  reached  the  point  where  it  was  joined  by  the 
smaller  gallery  of  his  own  digging.  At  this  point 
of  vantage,  with  exits  open  both  ways,  he  hastily 
dug  himself  a  little  pocket  or  side  chamber  where 
he  could  curl  himself  up  in  comfort.  Here  he 


Xittle  Uprant  of  tbe  Kurrows    163 

licked  his  wounds  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  care- 
fully washed  his  face  with  his  clever,  hand-like 
fore  paws.  Then  with  a  sense  of  perfect  security 
he  went  to  sleep,  his  watchful  nose,  most  trusty 
of  sentinels,  on  guard  at  the  threshold  of  his 
bedchamber. 

While  he  slept  in  this  unseen  retreat,  among  the 
short  grasses  just  above  his  sleep  went  on  the 
busy  mingling  of  comedy  and  tragedy,  of  mirth 
and  birth  and  death,  which  makes  the  sum  of  life 
on  a  summer  day  in  the  pastures.  Everywhere 
the  grass,  and  the  air  above  the  grass,  were 
thronged  with  insects.  Through  the  grass  came 
gliding  soundlessly  a  long,  smooth,  sinuous  brown 
shape  with  a  quick-darting  head  and  a  forked, 
amber-coloured,  flickering  tongue.  The  snake's 
body  was  about  the  thickness  of  a  man's  thumb, 
and  his  back  was  unobtrusively  but  exquisitely 
marked  with  a  reticulation  of  fine  lines.  He 
seemed  to  be  travelling  rather  aimlessly,  doubtless 
on  the  watch  for  any  small  quarry  he  might  catch 
sight  of;  but  when  he  chanced  upon  the  fresh-dug 
hole  where  the  shrew  had  begun  his  burrowing, 
he  stopped  abruptly.  His  fixed,  opaque-looking 
eyes  grew  strangely  intent.  With  his  head  poised 
immediately  over  the  hole  he  remained  perfectly 


164        Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

rigid  for  some  seconds.  Then  he  glided  slowly 
into  the  burrow. 

The  black  snake  —  for  such  he  was  called,  in 
spite  of  his  colour  being  brown  —  had  an  undis- 
criminating  appetite  for  moles  and  shrews  alike. 
It  was  of  no  concern  to  him  that  the  flesh  of  the 
shrew  was  rank  and  tough;  for  his  sense  of  taste 
was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  rudimentary,  and  to 
digestion  so  invincible  as  his,  tough  and  tender 
were  all  one.  He  had  learned,  of  course,  that 
shrews  were  averse  to  being  swallowed,  and  that 
they  both  could  and  would  put  up  a  stiff  fight 
against  such  consummation.  But  he  had  never 
yet  captured  one  in  such  a  position  that  he  could 
not  get  his  coils  around  and  crush  it.  What  he 
expected  to  find  in  the  burrow  which  he  entered 
so  confidently  was  a  satisfying  meal,  followed  by 
a  long,  safe  sleep  to  companion  digestion. 

As  he  trailed  along  the  winding  of  the  tunnel, 
his  motion  made  a  faint,  dry,  whispering  sound. 
This  delicate  sound,  together  with  his  peculiar, 
sickly,  elusive  scent,  travelled  just  before  him, 
and  reached  the  doorway  of  the  little  chamber 
where  the  shrew  was  sleeping.  The  sleeper 
awoke,  —  wide  awake  all  at  once,  as  it  behoves 
the  wild  kindreds  to  be.  Instantly,  too,  he  under- 


Hbe  %ittle  arrant  of  tbe  Burrows    165 

stood  the  whole  peril,  and  that  it  was  even  now 
upon  him.  There  was  no  time  for  flight.  To  do 
him  justice,,  it  was  not  flight  he  thought  of,  but 
fight.  His  little  heart  swelled  with  rage  at  this 
invasion  of  his  rest.  Experienced  fighter  that  he 
was,  he  fully  understood  the  advantages  of  his 
situation.  As  the  head  of  the  invader  stole  past 
his  doorway,  he  sprang,  and  sank  his  long,  punish- 
ing teeth  deep  into  the  back  of  the  snake's  neck. 

With  this  hold  the  advantage  was  all  his,  so 
long  as  he  could  maintain  it ;  and  he  hung  to  the 
grip  like  a  bulldog,  biting  deeper  and  deeper  every 
minute.  Fettered  completely  by  the  narrowness 
of  the  tunnel,  unable  to  lash  or  coil  or  strike,  the 
snake  could  only  writhe  impotently  and  struggle 
to  drag  his  adversary  farther  down  the  burrow 
toward  some  roomier  spot  where  his  own  tactics 
would  have  a  chance.  But  the  shrew  was  not  to 
be  dislodged  from  his  point  of  vantage.  He  clung 
to  his  doorway  no  less  doggedly  than  he  clung  to 
his  hold;  and  all  the  while  his  deadly  teeth  were 
biting  deeper  in.  At  last,  they  found  the  back- 
bone, —  and  bit  it  through.  With  a  quiver  the 
writhing  of  the  big  snake  stopped. 

Victor  though  he  was,  the  shrew  was  slow  to 
accept  conviction  of  his  victory  over  so  mighty  an 


i66       ftbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

antagonist.  Though  all  resistance  had  ceased, 
he  kept  on  gnawing  and  worrying,  till  he  had 
succeeded  in  completely  severing  the  head  from 
the  trunk.  Then,  feeling  that  his  triumph  was 
secured,  he  turned  back  into  his  chamber  and 
curled  up  again  to  resume  his  rudely  interrupted 
siesta. 

Having  thus  effectually  established  his  lordship 
of  the  burrows,  this  small  champion  might  have 
reasonably  expected  to  enjoy  an  undisturbed 
and  unanxious  slumber.  But  Fate  is  pitilessly 
whimsical  in  its  dealings  with  the  wild  kindreds. 
It  chanced  at  this  time  that  a  red  fox  came  trotting 
down  along  the  pasture  fence.  He  seemed  to  have 
a  very  vague  idea  of  where  he  was  going  or  what 
he  wanted  to  do.  Presently  he  took  it  into  his 
head  that  he  wanted  to  cross  the  pasture,  so  he 
forsook  the  fence  and  started  off  over  the  grass ; 
and  as  luck  would  have  it,  his  keen,  investigating 
nose  sniffed  the  sod  just  at  the  point  whereunder 
the  sleeping  shrew  lay  hidden.  The  turf  that 
formed  the  little  fighter's  ceiling  was  not  more 
than  half  an  inch  in  thickness. 

The  smell  that  came  up  through  the  grass-roots 
was  strong,  and  not  particularly  savoury.  But  the 
red  fox  wras  not  overparticular  just  then.  He 


Ube  Xittle  Tyrant  of  tbe  Burrows    167 

would  have  chosen  rabbit  or  partridge  had  Mother 
Nature  consulted  his  wishes  more  minutely. 
But  as  it  was  he  saw  no  reason  to  turn  up  his 
sharp  nose  at  shrew.  After  a  few  hasty  but  dis- 
creet sniffings,  which  enabled  him  to  locate  the 
careless  slumberer,  he  pounced  upon  the  exact 
spot  and  fell  to  clawing  the  sod  ferociously.  His 
long  nails  and  powerful  fore  paws  tore  off  the  thin 
covering  of  turf  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  of 
it,  and  the  next  instant  the  shrew  was  hurled  out 
into  the  sunlight,  dazzled  and  half  stunned. 
Almost  before  he  touched  the  grass  a  pair  of 
narrow  jaws  snapped  him  up.  Without  a  mo- 
ment's delay  the  fox  turned  and  trotted  off  up  the 
pasture  with  his  prey,  toward  his  den  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hill ;  and  as  the  discriminating  sunlight 
peered  down  into  the  uncovered  tunnel,  in  a  few 
minutes  flies  came  to  investigate,  and  many  in- 
dustrious beetles.  The  body  of  the  dead  snake 
was  soon  a  centre  of  teeming,  hungry,  busy  life, 
toiling  to  remove  all  traces  of  what  had  happened. 
For  Nature,  though  she  works  out  almost  all  her 
ends  by  tragedy,  is  ceaselessly  attentive  to  con- 
ceal the  red  marks  of  her  violence. 


Gbe 


through  the  leafy  tangle  the  sun- 
light fell  in  little  irregular  splotches, 
flecking  the  ruddy-brown  floor  of  a 
thicket  on  the  southward  slope  of  Ringwaak. 
In  the  very  heart  of  the  thicket,  curled  close 
and  with  its  soft,  fine  muzzle  resting  flat  on  its 
upgathered  hind  legs,  lay  a  young  fawn. 

The  ground,  covered  with  a  deep,  elastic  carpet 
of  dead  spruce  and  hemlock  needles,  was  much 
the  same  colour  as  the  little  animal's  coat.  The 
latter,  however,  was  diversified  with  spots  of  a 
lighter  hue,  which  matched  marvellously  with 
the  scattered  splotches  of  sunlight  —  so  marvel- 
lously, indeed,  that  only  an  eye  that  was  initiated, 
as  wrell  as  discriminating,  could  tell  the  patches  of 
shine  from  the  patches  of  colour  or  distinguish 
the  outlines  of  the  fawn's  figure  against  the  blend- 
ing background.  There  was  neither  sound  nor 
movement  in  the  thicket.  A  tiny  greenish-yellow 
168 


'Cbe  TRinowaafe  Bucft  169 

worm,  which  had  let  itself  down  from  a  branch 
on  a  yard  or  more  of  delicate  filament,  hung 
;  motionless  and  crinkled,  seeming  to  have  forgotten 
the  purpose  of  its  descent.  Not  a  breath  of 
wind  disturbed  the  clear,  balsamy  fragrance 
of  the  shadowed  air,  and  the  fawn  appeared 
to  sleep,  though  its  great  liquid  eyes  were  wide 
open. 

During  the  brief  absence  of  its  mild-eyed  mother 
the  little  animal  was  accustomed  to  maintaining 
this  voiceless  and  unwavering  stillness,  which, 
combined  with  its  colouring,  made  its  most 
effective  concealment.  Enemies,  hungry  and 
savage,  were  all  about  it,  searching  coverts  and 
pursuing  trails.  But  the  eyes  of  the  hunting 
beasts  seem  to  be  less  keen  than  we  are  wont  to 
imagine  them  —  certainly  less  keen  than  the  eyes 
of  skilled  woodsmen  —  and  an  unwinking  stillness 
may  deceive  the  craftiest  of  them.  Whether 
because  its  mother  had  taught  it  to  be  thus  motion- 
less, or  because  it  was  coerced  by  instincts  inher- 
ited from  ten  thousand  cautious  ancestors,  the 
fawn  obeyed  so  absolutely  that  even  its  long, 
sensitive  ears  were  not  permitted  to  twitch.  Its 
great  eyes  kept  staring  out  in  vague  apprehension 
at  the  wide,  shadowy,  unknown  world. 


170       Ube  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

Suddenly  into  the  limpid  deeps  of  the  little 
watcher's  eyes  came  a  flash  of  fear,  like  a  sharp 
contraction  in  the  back  of  the  pupils.  A  stealthy- 
footed,  moon-faced,  fierce-eyed  beast  came  sound- 
lessly to  the  edge  of  the  thicket  and  glared  in 
searchingly.  The  fawn  knew  in  some  dim  way 
that  this  was  a  deadly  danger  that  confronted  him. 
Bu*  he  never  winked  or  moved  an  anxious  ear. 
He  hardly  dared  to  breathe.  It  was  almost  as  if 
a  hand  of  ice  had  clutched  him  and  held  him  still 
beyond  even  the  possibility  of  a  tremor.  For 
perhaps  a  full  minute  the  huge  lynx  stood  there 
half  crouching,  with  one  big,  padded  fore  paw 
upheld,  piercing  the  gloom  with  his  implacable 
stare.  He  could  discern  nothing,  however,  except 
spaces  of  reddish-brown  shadow,  scored  with  the 
slim,  perpendicular  trunks  of  saplings,  and  spat- 
tered thicket  with  spots  of  in  filtering  sunlight. 
But  the  fawn,  though  in  full  view,  was  perfectly 
concealed — for  he  had  that  gift  of  fern-seed  which, 
as  the  old  romancers  feign,  makes  its  possessor 
invisible.  No  wandering  puff  of  wind  came  by  to 
tell  the  lynx's  nose  that  his  eyes  were  playing  him 
false.  At  last  the  uplifted  fore  paw  came  softly 
to  the  ground  and  he  crept  off  like  a  terrible  gray 
shadow.  For  two  or  three  seconds  the  fawn's 


IRingwaafe  36ucfc  171 

sides  moved  violently.     Then  he  was  once  more 
as  still  as  a  stone. 

It  chanced  that  on  this  particular  occasion  the 
mother  doe  was  long  away.  The  fawn  got  very 
hungry,  as  well  as  lonely,  which  strained  his 
patience  to  the  utmost.  Nevertheless,  he  remained 
obedient  to  the  law  which  shielded  him,  while  the 
forest,  which  seems  so  empty,  but  is  in  reality  so 
populous,  sent  its  furtive  kindreds  past  his  hiding- 
place.  From  time  to  time  a  dainty,  bead-eyed 
wood-mouse  scurried  by ;  or  a  brooding  partridge, 
unwilling  to  be  long  absent  from  her  eggs,  ran 
hither  and  thither  to  peck  her  hasty  meal;  or  a 
red  squirrel,  with  fluffy  tail  afloat,  would  dart 
swiftly  and  silently  over  the  ground,  dash  up  a 
tree,  and  from  the  top  chatter  shrill  defiance  to 
the  perils  which  had  lain  wait  for  him  below.  All 
these  things  the  fawn's  wide  eyes  observed,  uncon- 
sciously laying  the  foundations  for  that  wisdom 
of  the  woods  upon  which  his  success  in  the  merci- 
less game  of  life  would  depend.  Once  a  large  red 
fox,  wary,  but  self-confident,  trotted  quietly 
across  one  end  of  the  thicket,  within  ten  feet  of  the 
fawn's  nose;  and  once  more  that  inward  spasm 
which  meant  fear  contracted  the  depths  of  the 
little  watcher's  eyes.  But  the  fox  was  sniffing 


172       TTbe  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

with  his  narrow,  inquisitive  snout  at  the  places 
where  the  partridge  hen  had  scratched,  and  he 
never  saw  the  fawn. 

With  all  its  advantages,  however,  this  invisi- 
bility had  certain  defects  of  its  own.  About  five 
minutes  after  the  fox  had  gone  there  came  a 
swishing  of  branches,  a  pounding  of  soft  feet,  a 
mysterious  sound  of  haste  and  terror,  at  the  back 
of  the  thicket  where  the  fawn  could  not  see.  He 
did  not  dare  to  lift  his  head  and  look,  but  waited, 
quivering  with  apprehension.  The  next  moment 
a  furry  bulk  landed  plump  upon  his  flank,  to 
bounce  off  again  with  a  squeal  of  terror.  In  an 
uncontrollable  panic  the  fawn  bounded  to  his  feet, 
and  stood  trembling,  while  a  large  hare,  elongated 
to  a  straight  line  in  the  desperation  of  his  flight, 
shot  crashing  through  the  screen  of  branches  and 
disappeared.  As  the  fawn  shrank  away  from  this 
incomprehensible  apparition  —  which,  as  far  as 
he  knew,  might  return  at  any  instant  and  thump 
him  again  —  a  thin,  snarling,  peculiarly  malignant 
cry  made  him  turn  his  head,  and  as  he  did  so  a 
small,  dark-furred  beast,  the  hare's  pursuer, 
sprang  upon  him  furiously  and  bore  him  down. 
For  the  first  time  he  experienced  the  pang  of 
physical  anguish,  as  fierce  teeth,  small,  but  sharp, 


TRtngwaafe  JBucfe  173 

tore  at  the  tender  hide  of  his  neck,  feeling  the 
way  to  his  throat.  He  lay  helplessly  kicking  under 
this  onslaught,  and  bleated  piteously  for  his 
mother. 

At  that  same  moment,  and  just  in  time,  the 
mother  arrived.  Her  eyes,  usually  so  gentle, 
were  aflame  with  rage.  Before  the  fisher  —  for 
such  the  daring  little  assailant  was  —  could  do 
more  than  turn  his  narrow,  snarling  face  to  see 
what  threatened,  and  while  yet  the  first  sweet 
trickle  of  blood  was  in  his  throat,  a  knife-edged 
hoof  came  down  upon  his  back,  smashing  the  spine. 
He  squirmed  aside  and  made  one  futile  effort  to 
drag  himself  away.  A  second  later  he  was  pounded 
and  trampled  into  a  shapeless  mass. 

The  fisher  being  small  and  his  fangs  not  very 
long,  the  fawn's  wounds  were  not  serious.  He 
picked  himself  up  and  crowded  close  against  his 
mother's  flank.  Tenderly  the  doe  licked  him  over 
as  he  nursed,  and  then,  when  his  slim  legs  had 
stopped  trembling  she  led  him  away  to  another 
hiding-place. 

This  experience  so  jarred  the  little  animal's 
nerves  that  for  a  week  or  more  his  mother  could 
not  leave  him  alone,  but  had  to  snatch  such  pas- 
turage as  she  could  get  near  his  hiding-place.  His 


174       TTbe  Daunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

confidence  in  the  tactics  of  invisibility  had  been 
so  shaken  that  whenever  his  mother  tried  to  leave 
him  he  would  jump  up  and  run  after  her.  The 
patient  old  doe  got  thin  under  these  conditions; 
but  by  the  time  her  little  one  had  recovered  his 
nerves  he  was  strong  enough  to  follow  her  to 
her  favoured  feeding-grounds,  and  thereafter  her 
problems  grew  daily  less  difficult.  The  summer 
passed  with  comparatively  little  event,  and  by 
autumn,  when  his  mother  began  to  develop  other 
instincts,  and  occasionally,  in  the  companionship 
of  a  tall,  wide-antlered  buck,  seemed  to  forget  him 
altogether,  he  was  a  very  sturdy,  self-reliant 
youngster,  in  many  ways  equipped  to  take  care 
of  himself.  Ignored  by  the  tall  buck,  whom  he 
eyed  with  vague  disfavour,  he  still  hung  about  his 
mother,  pasturing  with  her  usually,  and  always 
sleeping  near  her  in  the  thickets.  But  his  first 
summer  had  supplied  him  with  the  most  important 
elements  of  that  knowledge  which  a  red  deer's 
life  in  the  wilderness  of  the  north  demands. 

The  courses  of  the  varied  knowledge  which  the 
wild  creatures  must  carry  in  their  brains  in  order 
to  survive  in  the  struggle  would  seem  to  be  three- 
fold. The  first,  and  most  important,  source  is 
doubtless  inherited  instinct,  which  supplies  the 


Ube  TRingwaafe  36ucfc  175 

constant  quantity,  so  to  speak,  or  the  knowledge 
common  to  all  the  individuals  of  a  species.  The 
second  appears  to  be  experience,  which  teaches 
varying  lore,  according  to  variation  in  circum- 
stance and  surrounding.  In  the  amount  of  such 
knowledge  which  they  possess  the  individuals  of 
a  species  will  be  found  to  differ  widely.  But, 
after  instinct  and  experience  have  accounted  for 
everything  that  can  reasonably  be  credited  to 
them,  there  remains  a  considerable  and  well 
authenticated  residuum  of  instances  where  wild 
creatures  have  displayed  a  knowledge  which 
neither  instinct  nor  experience  could  well  furnish 
them  with.  In  such  cases  observation  and 
inference  seem  to  agree  in  ascribing  the  knowledge 
to  parental  teaching. 

Among  the  lessons  learned  that  summer  by  the 
little  red  buck  one  of  the  most  vital  was  how  to 
keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  bears.  All  the  forests 
about  Ringwaak  Hill  abounded  in  bears;  for  the 
slopes  of  Ringwaak  were  rich  in  blueberries,  and 
bears  and  blueberries  go  together  when  the  wishes 
of  the  bears  are  at  all  considered.  But  the  season 
of  blueberries  is  short,  and  before  the  blueberries 
are  ready  there  are  few  things  more  delicious  to 
a  bear's  taste  than  a  fawn  or  a  moose  calf.  The 


176       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

bear,  however,  is  not  a  very  pertinacious  trailer, 
nor  does  he  excel  in  running  long  distances  at  top 
speed.  When  it  is  young  moose  or  deer  he  is 
wanting,  his  way  is  to  lie  hidden  behind  some 
brush-screened  stump  or  boulder  till  the  victim 
comes  by,  then  dart  out  a  huge  paw  and  settle  the 
matter  at  one  stroke.  Such  might  well  have  been 
the  fate  of  the  little  red  buck  that  summer  but 
that  he  learned  to  look  with  wary  eye  on  every 
ambush  that  might  hide  a  bear.  To  all  these 
perilous  places  he  gave  wide  berth,  sometimes 
avoiding  them  altogether  and  sometimes  circling; 
about  at  safe  distances  till  he  could  get  the  wind 
of  them  and  find  out  whether  they  held  a  menace 
or  not. 

Another  important  truth  borne  in  upon  him 
that  first  summer  was  that  man,  the  most  to  be 
dreaded  of  all  creatures,  was,  notwithstanding, 
capable  of  being  most  useful  to  the  deer  people. 
To  the  wrest  of  Ringwaak  lay  a  line  of  scattered 
settlements  and  lonely  upland  farms.  Along  the 
edge  of  the  forest  were  open  fields,  where  the  men 
had  roots  and  grains  which  the  deer  found  very 
good  to  eat.  Often  the  little  red  buck  and  his 
mother  would  break  into  one  of  these  fields  and 
feast  riotously  on  the  succulent  crops.  But  at  the 


TTbe  TRinawaafe  Bucfc  177 

first  glimpse,  smell,  or  sound  of  man,  or  of  the 
noisy  dogs  who  served  man  and  dwelt  with  him, 
they  would  be  off  like  swift  shadows  to  their  re- 
motest retreats.  The  wise  old  doe  knew  a  lot 
about  man;  and  so,  however  it  came  about,  the 
little  red  buck  had  a  lot  of  useful  information  upon 
the  same  subject.  At  the  same  time,  through 
some  inexplicable  caprice  of  his  mother's,  he 
acquired  a  dangerous  habit  that  was  in  no  way 
consistent  with  his  prudent  attitude  toward  man. 
The  old  doe  had  a  whimsical  liking  for  cows,  and 
would  sometimes  lead  her  fawn  into  one  of  the 
remoter  back-lot  cow-pastures  to  feed  among  the 
cattle.  She  neither  permitted  nor  offered  any 
familiarities  whatever  to  these  heavy,  alien  beasts, 
but  for  some  reason  she  liked  to  be  among  them. 
The  little  red  buck,  therefore,  although  he  knew 
the  cattle  were  associated  with  man  and  cared  for 
by  him,  got  into  the  way  of  visiting  the  cow-pas- 
tures occasionally  and  feeding  on  the  .sweet,  close- 
cropped  grasses.  Fortunately,  he  learned  from 
the  first  that  milking-time  was  a  time  when  the 
pastures  were  to  be  avoided. 

Yet  another  lesson  the  little  buck  learned  that 
fall  one  day  when  he  and  his  mother  were  crossing 
the  road  near  the  settlement.  Two  of  the  village 


178       Tlbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

dogs  —  mongrels  neither  very  keen  of  nose  nor 
very  resolute  of  temper  —  caught  sight  of  them , 
and  gave  chase  with  noisy  cry.  Away  through 
the  woods  went  doe  and  fawn  together,  bounding 
lightly,  at  a  pace  that  soon  left  their  pursuers  far 
behind.  For  these  pursuers  the  old  doe  had  no 
very  great  respect  —  at  a  pinch,  indeed,  she  would 
have  faced  them  and  fought  them  with  her  nimble 
fore  hoofs,  and  she  did  not  want  to  tire  the  fawn 
unnecessarily.  When  the  yelping  of  the  dogs 
grew  faint  in  the  distance  she  wheeled  around  a 
half-circle  of  perhaps  fifty  feet  in  diameter,  ran 
back  a  little  way,  and  lay  down  with  the  fawn 
beside  her  to  watch  the  trail.  By  the  time  they 
were  both  thoroughly  rested  the  dogs  came  pant- 
ing by,  noses  to  the  ground.  As  soon  as  they  were 
well  past  the  two  fugitives  jumped  up  and  made 
off  again  at  full  speed  in  another  direction.  After 
one  repetition  of  this  familiar  manoeuvre  the  dogs 
gave  up  the  game  in  disgust.  The  little  red  buck 
had  learned  a  handy  trick,  but  he  had  learned, 
at  the  same  time,  to  take  dogs  too  lightly. 

That  winter  the  doe  and  fawn,  with  another 
doe,  were  in  a  manner  taken  in  charge  by  the  tall, 
wide-antlered  buck,  who,  when  the  snow  began 
to  get  deep,  selected  a  sunny  slope  where  groves 


Ube  IRingwaafe  JSucfc  179 

of  thick  spruce  were  interspersed  with  clumps  of 
young  poplar  and  birch.  Hither  he  led  his  little 
herd,  and  here  he  established  his  winter  quarters, 
treading  out  paths  from  grove  to  grove  and  from 
thicket  to  thicket,  so  that  even  when  the  snow  lay 
from  four  to  five  feet  deep  the  herd  could  move 
about  freely  from  one  feeding-place  to  another. 
The  memory  of  all  this  fixed  itself  securely  in  the 
recesses  of  the  little  buck's  brain,  to  serve  him 
in  .good  stead  in  later  winters. 

When  at  last  the  snow  vanished  and  the  hillside 
brooks  ran  full  and  loud,  and  spring,  with  her  cool 
colours  and  fresh  scents,  was  in  full  possession  of 
Ringwaak,  the  little  herd  scattered.  The  old  doe 
stole  off  by  herself  one  day  when  he  was  not  notic- 
ing, and  the  yearling  found  himself  left  solitary. 
For  a  few  days  he  was  lonely  and  spent  much  of 
his  time  looking  for  his  mother.  Then,  being  of 
self-reliant  disposition  and  very  large  and  vigorous 
for  his  age,  and  wrell  endowed  with  the  joy  of  life, 
he  forgot  his  loss  and  became  pleasantly  absorbed 
in  the  wilderness  world  of  Ringwaak,  with  its 
elations,  and  satisfactions,  and  breathless  adven- 
tures, and  thrilling  escapes.  That  autumn  he 
grew  pugnacious,  and  get  more  than  one  thrashing 
from  full-grown  bucks  whom  he  was  so  foolhardy 


i8o       Ube  Tbaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

as  to  offend.  But  his  defeats  were  the  best  kind 
of  instruction,  and  he  was  growing  both  in  strength 
and  stature  beyond  the  ordinary  custom  of  his 
kind.  By  the  time  another  winter  and  another 
summer  had  gone  over  him  he  was  ready  to  wipe 
out  all  past  humiliations.  When  he  stopped  to 
drink  at  the  glassy  pool  which  lies  in  a  granite 
pocket  half-way  up  the  western  slope  of  Ringwaak 
he  saw  a  reflection  of  the  most  redoubtable  buck 
on  all  that  range,  and  when  the  other  bucks  je- 
sponded  to  his  challenge  they  one  after  another 
met  defeat.  That  winter,  when  he  established 
his  yard  and  trod  out  his  range  of  paths  among 
the  birch  and  poplar  thickets,  he  had  three  does 
and  two  fawns  under  his  leadership. 

During  the  next  two  years  he  became  famous 
throughout  the  settlements.  Every  one  had  heard 
of  the  big  buck  who  was  so  bold  about  showing 
himself  when  no  one  was  ready  for  him,  but  so 
crafty  in  eluding  the  hunters.  He  was  seen  from 
time  to  time  in  the  pastures  with  the  cattle,  but 
never  when  there  was  a  gun  within  reach.  On 
many  a  field  of  earing  grain  he  stamped  the  broad 
defiance  of  his  ravages,  till  for  miles  about  every 
backwoods  sportsman  began  to  dream,  of  winning 
those  noble  antlers. 


"  WHEN    HE    STOPPED    TO    DRINK    AT   THE   GLASSY    POOL.' 


Ube  lRfng\vaafe  JSucft  181 

The  last  farm  of  the  settlement  toward  the 
northwest,  where  the  road  leads  off  over  wooded 
dips  and  rises  to  the  valley  of  the  turbulent  Otta- 
noonsis,  belonged  to  an  old  bachelor  farmer  named 
Ramsay.  This  farm  the  red  buck  seemed  to  have 
selected  for  his  special  and  distinguished  attention. 
He  loved  Ramsay's  bean-fields  and  his  corn-patch. 
He  loved  his  long,  sea-green  turnip  rows.  He 
loved  even  the  little  garden  before  the  kitchen 
window,  where  he  easily  learned  to  like  cabbages 
and  cucumbers  and  tried  vainly  to  acquire  a  taste 
for  onions  and  peppergrass.  The  visits  to  the 
garden  were  invariably  paid  when  Ramsay  was 
away  at  the  crossroads  store  or  during  the  dark 
hours  of  those  particular  nights  when  Ramsay 
slept  soundest.  The  gaunt  old  farmer  vowed 
vengeance,  and  kept  his  long-barrelled  duck  gun 
loaded  with  buckshot,  and  wasted  many  days 
lying  in  wait  for  the  marauder  or  following  his 
trail  through  the  tumbled,  sweet-smelling  autumn 
woods  of  Ringwaak.  At  last,  however,  though 
his  desire  for  vengeance  had  by  no  means  slack- 
ened, the  grim  old  farmer  woodsman  began  to  take 
a  certain  pride  in  his  adversary's  prowess,  along 
with  a  certain  jealous  apprehension  lest  those 
daring  antlers  should  fall  a  trophy  to  some  other 


182       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

gun  than  his.  When  the  buck  would  perpetrate 
some  particularly  audacious  depredation  on  the 
corn  or  cabbages,  Ramsay's  first  burst  of  wrath 
would  be  succeeded  by  something  akin  to  respect- 
ful appreciation.  He  would  pull  his  scraggy  and 
grizzled  chin  with  his  gnarled  fingers  contem- 
platively, and  a  twinkle  of  understanding  humour 
would  supplant  the  anger  in  his  shrewd,  blue, 
woods- wise  eyes  as  he  stood  surveying  the  damage. 
Such  an  antagonist  was  worth  while,  and  Ramsay 
registered  a  vow  that  that  fine  hide  should  keep 
him  warm  in  winter,  those  illustrious  antlers  adorn 
no  other  walls  but  his. 

But  there  were  many  others  who  had  similar 
views  as  to  the  destiny  of  the  great  Ringwaak 
buck,  whose  fame  by  the  opening  of  his  fourth 
season  had  spread  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
Ringwaak  settlements.  Late  in  the  fourth  autumn 
a  couple  of  new  settlers  on  the  lower  river  decided 
to  make  a  trip  up  to  Ringwaak  and  try  their  luck. 
They  had  heard  of  the  big  buck's  craft  in  foiling 
the  trailers,  of  his  almost  inspired  sagacity  in 
avoiding  ambuscade.  But  they  were  prepared 
to  play  an  entirely  new  card  against  him.  They 
brought  with  them  two  splendid  dogs  of  mixed 
Scotch  deerhound  and  collie  blood  who  were  not 


Ube  1Rin0\vaafe  Bucfc  183 

only  fierce  but  intelligent,  not  only  tireless  but 
swift. 

When  these  two  long-legged,  long-jawed,  iron 
gray  dogs  were  loosed  upon  his  trail  the  big  buck 
chanced  to  be  watching  them  from  the  heart  of  a 
thicket  on  a  knoll  less  than  one  hundred  yards 
away.  At  least,  as  the  crow  flies,  it  was  about 
that  distance,  but  by  the  windings  of  the  trail  it 
was  fully  a  mile.  It  was  with  equanimity,  there- 
fore, that  the  buck  gazed  down  upon  these  two 
strange  arrivals,  till  he  perceived  by  their  actions 
that  it  was  his  own  trail  they  were  following. 
Then  a  spark  of  anger  came  into  his  great  liquid 
eyes,  and  he  stamped  his  sharp  hoofs,  as  if  he 
would  like  to  wait  and  give  battle.  But  these 
were  antagonists  too  formidable  for  even  so  hardy 
a  fighter  as  he ;  so  he  decided  to  get  away  in  good 
time.  He  was  only  half  in  earnest  about  it,  how- 
ever, for  after  all,  big  as  they  were,  these  were 
only  dogs,  and  dogs  were  easy  to  elude.  He 
amused  himself  with  three  or  four  mighty  leaps, 
first  in  one  direction,  then  in  another,  to  give  his 
pursuers  something  to  puzzle  over.  Then  he  went 
bounding  lightly  away  along  the  skirts  of  the 
mountains,  northwestward,  toward  the  more 
familiar  and  favoured  section  of  his  range.  When 


184       Ztbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

he  came  to  a  brook  he  would  run  a  little  way  up 
or  down  the  channel  before  resuming  his  flight. 
And  at  last,  when  his  velvet  sides  were  beginning 
to  heave  from  so  much  exercise,  he  made  his 
accustomed  loop  in  the  trail  and  lay  down,  well 
satisfied  to  wait  for  the  pursuers  to  go  by. 

There  was  only  one  thing  that  made  him  a 
little  nervous  as  he  waited  in  the  covert  overlook- 
ing his  back  tracks.  These  dogs  were  so  silent, 
compared  with  the  curs  he  was  used  to.  An 
occasional  sharp  yelp,  just  enough  to  let  their 
masters  know  where  they  were,  was  all  the  noise 
they  made.  They  attended  strictly  to  business. 
The  buck  did  not  expect  to  hear  anything  of  them 
for  some  time,  but  he  had  hardly  been  lying  in 
his  covert  more  than  five  minutes  when  those 
staccato  yelps  came  faintly  to  his  ears.  He  was 
startled.  How  had  the  creatures  so  quickly 
solved  the  complexities  of  his  trail?  He  had  no 
apprehension  of  the  sure  cunning  with  which 
those  dogs  could  cut  across  curves  and  pick  up  the 
trail  anew.  Still  less  did  he  realize  their  appalling 
speed.  When  next  their  voices  struck  upon  his 
ear  they  were  so  close  that  for  an  instant  his  heart 
stood  still.  But  his  craft  did  not  fail  him.  With- 
out waiting  to  see  the  lean,  long  shapes  flash  by, 


NOISELESSLY    FADED    BACK    THROUGH    THE   COVERT. 


TRingwaafe  Bucfe  185 

he  arose  and  noiselessly-  faded  back  through  the 
covert,  moving  as  softly  as  a  shadow  till  he  felt 
himself  out  of  ear-shot.  Then  he  dashed  away 
at  top  speed,  determined  to  put  a  safe  distance 
between  himself  and  these  disconcerting  adver- 
saries. 

He  kept  on  now  till  his  heart  was  near  bursting, 
and  when  at  last  he  made  his  strategic  loop  and 
lay  down  to  rest  and  watch  he  felt  that  he  must 
have  secured  ample  time  to  recover.  But  not  so. 
Before  he  had  half  got  his  wind,  and  while  his  flanks 
were  yet  heaving  painfully,  those  meagre  but 
terrible  cries  again  drew  near.  This  time,  perforce, 
he  let  the  pursuers  run  by,  and  saw  that  they 
seemed  as  fresh  as  ever.  Then  he  sprang  up  and 
resumed  the  flight,  shaken  by  the  first  chill  of  real 
terror  that  he  had  known  since  that  forgotten  day 
in  the  thicket  when  the  hare  and  the  fisher  jumped 
upon  him. 

His  flight  now  led  him  past  the  back  lots  of 
Ramsay's  farm,  where  the  cattle  were  pasturing. 
Either  because  his  sudden  fear  made  him  seek 
companionship  or  with  an  idea  of  confusing  his 
scent  with  that  of  the  cattle,  he  leaped  into  the 
pasture  and  ran  here  and  there  among  the  mildly 
wondering  COWTS.  Then  he  leaped  the  fence  again 


i86       tlbe  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

at  the  farthest  corner,  .plumped  into  the  thick 
underbrush,  and  headed  toward  the  fields  with 
which  he  had  been  wont  to  make  so  free.  He  had 
just  vanished  in  the  leafage  when  his  pur- 
suers appeared  at  the  other  side  of  the  pasture. 
They  ran  in  at  once  among  the  cows,  paying  no 
heed  whatever  to  angry  snorts  and  levelled  horns, 
unravelled  the  trail  with  perfect  ease,  dashed  over 
the  fence  again,  and  darted  into  the  underbrush 
with  a  new  note  of  triumph  in  their  yelpings. 

When  the  buck  heard  their  voices  so  close  behind 
him  his  knees  almost  gave  way.  He  knew  he 
could  not  run  much  farther,  and  he  knew  his 
shifts  were  all  vain  against  such  implacable  foes 
as  these.  He  half -paused,  with  a  brave  impulse 
to  stand  at  bay.  But  some  other  impulse,  unde- 
fined, but  potent,  urged  him  on  toward  Ramsay's 
farm.  It  was  familiar  ground,  and  he  had  never 
suffered  any  hurt  there.  He  knew  that  the  old 
farmer  was  most  dangerous,  but  he  was  not  an 
instant,  horrible,  inevitable  menace  like  this 
which  was  close  upon  his  heels.  Moreover,  he  had 
seen  the  cattle  go  up  to  the  barn-yard  and  take 
refuge  there,  and  come  away  in  safety. 

With  the  last  of  his  ebbing  strength  he  burst 
forth  into  the  open,  ran  across  the  corn-field,  passed 


THEN  HE  LEAPED  THE  FENCE  AGAIN." 


TTbe  IRingwaafe  3Bucfc  187 

the  corner  of  the  garden,  brushed  against  the  end 
of  the  well-sweep,  and  paused  before  the  open  door 
of  the  stable.  The  heavy  door  was  carelessly 
propped  open  with  a  stick.  In  contrast  with  the 
glare  of  the  sunshine  outside,  the  interior  looked 
black  and  safe.  But  all  about,  though  mixed 
with  the  smell  of  the  cattle,  was  the  dreaded  smell 
of  man.  He  wheeled  aside,  dimly  intending  to  go 
around  the  stable  and  resume  his  hopeless  flight, 
but  as  he  did  so  the  yelp  of  his  pursuers  broke 
louder  upon  his  ears.  He  saw  them  break  from 
the  woods  and  dart  into  the  corn-field.  This  de- 
cided him.  He  wheeled  again,  half -staggering, 
struck  blunderingly  against  the  stick  which 
propped  the  door  open,  stumbled  across  the 
threshold,  rai>  to  the  innermost  depths  of  the 
stable,  and  fell  gasping  into  a  box  stall  which 
Ramsay  had  once  built  for  a  colt.  At  the  same 
moment  the  heavy  door,  no  longer  propped  back, 
swung  to  with  a  slam, -the  big  wooden  latch  rising 
smoothly  and  dropping  securely  into  place. 

When  the  dogs  arrived  and  found  the  door  shut 
against -them  they  broke  into  angry  clamour. 
Once  around  the  building  they  ran  to  see  if  there 
was  any  other  entrance.  Then  they  clawed 
savagely  at  the  door,  barking  and  growling  in  their 


IBS       Ube  "fcaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

balked  fury.  Their  noise  brought  Ramsay  on  the 
run  from  the  potato-field,  over  the  rise,  where  he 
was  working.  He  was  surprised  to  see  two  strange 
dogs  making  such  a  fuss  at  his  stable  door.  Being 
a  canny  backwoodsman,  however,  instead  of  going 
straight  to  the  door,  he  went  around  behind  the 
stable  and  looked  in  the  window. 

When  Ramsay  saw  the  shivering,  tawny  form 
and  great  antlers  on  the  floor  of  the  stall  his  heart 
swelled  with  exultation.  The  coveted  trophies 
were  his.  He  ran  into  the  kitchen  for  his  gun. 
Then  he  changed  his  mind  and  picked  up,  instead, 
his  long  hunting-knife.  When  he  approached  the 
stable  door  the  dogs  turned  upon  him  threaten- 
ingly. But  the  crisp  voice  of  authority  with  which 
he  ordered  them  aside  was  something  they  were 
quite  too  clever  to  defy.  Sullenly,  with  red  eyes 
of  wrath,  they  obeyed,  waiting  for  their  masters 
to  arrive  and  support  them. 

Ramsay  closed  the  door  carefully  behind  him 
and  strode  to  the  box  stall,  knife  in  hand.  On  its 
threshold  he  paused  and  scrutinized  the  captive 
with  triumphant  admiration.  Sure,  besides  the 
trophies  of  hide  and  horns,  there  was  meat  enough 
there  to  do  him  all  winter  —  tough,  perhaps,  but 
sweet,  seeing  that  it  had  been  fatted  on  his  choicest 


Ube  tRingwaaft  Bucfc  189 

crops.  He  looked  at  the  animal's  heaving  sides 
and  realized  what  a  magnificent  run  he  must  have 
made.  Then  as  he  stepped  forward  with  his  knife 
he  wondered  what  could  have  induced  the  beast 
to  flee  to  such  a  refuge.  The  buck  was  gazing  up 
at  him  with  wide  eyes,  reassured  by  the  man's 
quiet.  There  was  no  terror  in  that  gaze,  but  only 
assort  of  anxious  question;  and  he  never  flinched, 
though  the  laboured  breath  came  quicker  through 
his  nostrils  as  the  man  approached  his  head. 

As  Ramsay  met  that  anxious,  questioning  look, 
the  eager  triumph  in  his  own  eyes  died  away,  and 
his  grim  mouth  softened  to  a  half -abashed,  half- 
quizzical  smile.  The  bright  blade  in  his  hand 
slipped  furtively  into  his  belt,  as  if  he  didn't  want 
the  buck  to  notice  it.  Then,  muttering  approv- 
ingly, "  Ye've  fooled  'em,  ain't  ye!  "  he  picked  up 
a  little  shallow  tub  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  the 
stall  and  started  out  to  the  well  to  get  the  beast  a 
drink. 

As  he  closed  the  stable  door  behind  him  two 
perspiring  men  with  guns  entered  the  yard  from 
the  corn-field,  and  were  eagerly  greeted  by  the 
dogs.  "  Good  day,"  said  one,  politely.  "  We're 
after  a  big  buck  which  our  dogs  here  have  run 
down  for  us.  He  must  have  hidden  in  your  barn." 


igo        Ube  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

Ramsay  eyed  the  visitors  with  ill  disguised 
antagonism  and  fingered  his  scraggy  chin  before 
he  answered. 

"  Ya-as,"  he  drawled.  "I've  got  a  mighty  fine 
buck  in  there  —  the  old  Ringwaak  buck  himself, 
as  everybody's  heard  tell  of.  But,  beggin'  your 
pardon,  friends,  I  reckon  he's  goin'  to  stay  in  there 
for  the  present." 

The  strangers  studied  the  old  man's  strong  face 
for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence,  noted  the  latent 
fire  in  the  depths  of  his  eyes,  and  realized  that 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Whistling  the  dogs 
to  heel,  they  strode  off,  angry  and  disgusted.  But 
before  they  had  gone  far  the  one  who  had  spoken 
turned  around. 

"  I'll  give  you  fifty  dollars  for  those  horns,"  he 
said  abruptly. 

"Ef  they're  wuth  fifty  dollars  they're  good 
enough  for  me  to  keep,"  drawled  Ramsay,  never 
moving  from  where  he  stood.  And  with  resentful 
eyes  he  watched  them  out  of  sight  before  he  went 
to  the  well. 

During  the  next  four  days  half  the  men  and 
boys  in  the  settlement,  with  not  a  few  of  the 
women,  visited  Ramsay's  barn  to  view  the  famous 
captive.  The  buck,  well  fed  and  watered,  had 


TTbe  IRfnawaafc  Bucfc  191 

recovered  himself  in  a  few  hours,  and  seemed  none 
the  worse  for  his  adventure.  All  his  former  arro- 
gance, too,  had  returned,  and  visitors  were  careful 
to  keep  at  a  safe  distance.  But  Ramsay  he  recog- 
nized, apparently,  as  either  protector  or  master, 
and  Ramsay  could  enter  the  stall  at  any  time. 
The  buck  would  sidle  off  and  eye  him  anxiously, 
but  show  no  sign  of  the  furious  anger  which  the 
visitors  excited. 

To  all  inquiries  as  to  what  he  would  do  with  his 
captive  Ramsay  would  answer,  "  Sell  him  to 
circus,  maybe."  But  it  was  not  till  several  weeks 
had  passed  and  the  settlement  had  got  over  its 
interest  in  the  matter  that  he  was  able  to  quite 
make  up  his  mind.  Then,  one  crisp  autumn 
morning,  when  the  woods  were  all  yellow  and 
red,  he  went  over  to  the  next  farm  and  asked 
his  neighbour,  a  handy  young  farmer,  to  come 
and  help  him  get  the  captive  aboard  a  hay- 
wagon. 

"  Got  a  chance  to  sell  him  up  to  the  Falls," 
he  vouchsafed  in  brief  explanation,  and  the 
explanation  was  one  to  content  the  whole  set- 
tlement. 

There  was  a  strenuous  hour  or  two  before  the 
indignant  animal  was  roped  and  trussed  into 


iQ2       TEbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

helplessness.  Then  the  bruised  and  panting  men 
hoisted  the  prisoner  into  the  hay-wagon  and  tied 
him  so  he  could  not  be  bounced  off ;  and  Ramsay 
started  on  the  rough  twenty-five  mile  drive  to 
the  Falls. 

About  seventeen  miles  from  Ringwaak  the  road 
crossed  the  Ottanoonsis,  whose  wild  current  filled 
the  valley  with  noise  and  formed  an  impassable 
northern  frontier  to  the  Ringwaak  region.  It  was 
generally  believed  that  the  wild  creatures  of  the 
Ringwaak  region  held  little  intercourse  with  those 
north  of  the  Ottanoonsis,  by  reason  of  that 
stream's  turbulence.  As  soon  as  Ramsay  found 
himself  across  the  bridge  he  stopped  and  once 
more  drew  his  hunting-knife.  At  the  flash  of  the 
blade  the  captive  looked  up  wonderingly  from 
his  bonds.  Leaning  over  him,  the  old  man's  face 
broke  into  a  sheepish  grin.  But  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate. Three  or  four  properly  distributed  strokes 
of  the  knife,  and  the  ropes  fell  apart.  The  captive 
lifted  his  splendid  head,  kicked,  and  struggled  to 
his  feet,  bewildered. 

"  Now,"  said  Ramsay,  "  Git!  " 

As  he  spoke  he  snapped  his  long  whip  sharply. 
With  a  magnificent  leap  the  buck  went  out  and 
over  the  wheels  and  vanished  with  great  sailing 


Ube  IRlnQwaafe  Bucfc  193 

bounds  into  the  wild  Ottanoonsis  forest.  Then 
Ramsay  turned  slowly  back  toward  home,  thinking 
a  thrilling  story  for  the  settlement  about  the  cun- 
ning escape  of  the  Ringwaak  buck. 


Iberon  In  tbe  IReefcs 


CHOUGH  haying  was  almost  done  on 
the  uplands,  over  the  wide,  level,  tree- 
less meadow-island  the  heavy  grass 
stood  still  uncut,  its  rank  growth  taking  long 
to  ripen.  The  warm  wind  that  drew  across 
it  from  time  to  time  in  a  vague,  elusive 
rhythm  was  burdened  with  rich  summer  scents, 
the  mid-noon  distillations  from  the  vetch  and 
clover  and  lily  and  yellow-daisy  blooms  which 
thronged  among  the  grass-heads,  and  from  the 
flaunting  umbels  of  the  wild  parsnip  which  towered 
above  them.  Over  this  radiant  and  pregnant 
luxuriance  the  air  quivered  softly,  and  hummed 
with  the  murmur  of  foraging  bees  and  flies,  glad 
in  the  heat. 

The  island  lay  on  the   tranquil   river    like   a 

splendid   green   enamel  on    blue   porcelain.      Its 

level,    at    this    season,   lay    several    feet    above 

that    of    the    water,    and    its  shores,   fantastic- 

194 


TLbe  Iberon  in  tbe  IReefcs  195 

ally  looped  with  little,  sweeping  coves  and 
jutting  points,  were  fringed  with  deep  rushes 
of  intense,  glaucous  green.  Whenever  the  wind 
puffed  lightly  over  them,  the  tops  of  the  rushes 
bowed  gravely  together  in  long  ranks,  and 
turned  silvery  gray.  Here  and  there  above  them 
fluttered  a  snipe,  signalling  its  hidden  young, 
then  winging  off  across  the  water  to  the  next  point, 
with  a  clear,  two-noted  whistle. 

On  one  of  the  little  jutting  points,  where  a  log 
lay  half -submerged  in  trailing  water-weeds,  stood 
a  tall  blue  heron  balanced  motionless  on  one  long, 
stilt-like  leg.  Its  head,  drawn  flat  back  between 
the  high  shoulders,  came  about  ten  inches  above 
the  tops  of  the  sedge.  Its  long,  keen,  javelin-like 
beak  lay  along  its  protruding  breast,  in  readiness 
to  dart  in  any  direction.  Its  round,  gem-like  eyes, 
hard  as  glass  in  their  glitter,  took  in  not  only 
the  wide,  blue-and-green  empty  landscape,  but 
equally  every  movement  of  the  sedge-fringe  and 
the  weedy  shallows  alongshore. 

For  some  minutes  the  great  bird  was  as  still  as 
a  carven  figure.  Then,  for  no  apparent  reason, 
the  long  neck  uncoiled  violently  like  a  loosed 
crossbow,  and  the  javelin  beak  shot  downward 
with  a  movement  almost  too  swift  for  the  eye  to 


196       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

follow.  Deep  into  the  weeds  and  water  it  darted, 
—  to  return  with  a  small,  silvery  chub  securely 
transfixed.  One  smart,  sidelong  blow  of  the 
wriggling  fish  upon  the  log  ended  its  struggles. 
Then  the  skilful  fisher  threw  his  prize  up  in  the 
air,  caught  it  as  it  fell,  swallowed  it  head  foremost, 
and  relapsed  into  his  watchful  immobility. 

This  time  he  had  not  quite  so  long  to  wait. 
Again  the  coiled  spring  of  his  neck  was  loosed, 
again  that  lightning  lance  darted  downward  into 
the  water,  and  returned  with  a  kicking  trophy. 
Now  it  was  a  large  brown-and-green  frog,  which 
the  victor  had  more  difficulty  in  killing.  For  half 
a  minute  he  whacked  it  savagely  against  the  side 
of  the  log,  before  he  could  satisfy  himself  that  the 
limp,  bedragged  form  was  past  all  effort  to  escape. 
Then,  picking  it  up  between  the  tips  of  his  beak, 
he  stepped  from  his  log,  strode  with  awkward 
dignity  some  paces  up  the  shore,  and  hid  the  prize 
safely  in  the  heart  of  a  tussock  of  sedge-grass. 
Not  only  for  himself  was  the  big  blue  heron  fishing, 
but  also,  and  first  of  all,  for  certain  extraordinarily 
hungry  nestlings  in  a  cedar  swamp  behind  the 
neighbouring  hills. 

Having  hidden  the  frog,  the  heron  raised  his 
head  and  steadily  surveyed  the  shores.  Then  he 


tlbe  Iberon  in  tbe  1Reet>8  197 

spread  his  long  wings  and  flapped  up  to  a  height 
of  seven  or  eight  feet,  where  he  commanded  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  meadows.  Assured 
that  no  peril  was  lurking  near,  he  winnowed  slowly 
along  the  shore,  his  legs  trailing  ludicrously,  and 
dropped  again  to  earth  at  the  next  point.  The 
moment  he  touched  ground  and  steadied  himself 
he  became  once  more  the  moveless  image  of  a 
bird,  as  if  just  projected  into  solidity  from  the 
face  of  a  Japanese  screen. 

At  this  point,  however,  fortune  failed  to  smile 
upon  his  fishing.  For  full  five  minutes  he  waited, 
and  neither  fish  nor  frog  came  within  reach. 
Suddenly  he  unlimbered,  and  went  stalking 
gravely  up  along  the  sloppy  mud  between  the 
reeds  and  the  shrunken  water.  As  he  went,  his 
long  neck  craned  alternately  to  one  side  and  the 
other,  and  his  eyes  pierced  every  retreat  among 
the  rushes  or  the  water-weeds.  Sometimes  he 
snapped  up  a  tiny  shiner,  or  a  big  black  water- 
beetle,  which  he  promptly  swallowed;  but  he  got 
no  more  prizes  worth  carrying  back  to  the  nest 
behind  the  hills.  He  went  forward  somewhat 
briskly,  therefore,  being  in  haste  to  reach  a  bit 
of  good  frogging-ground  a  little  farther  on.  At 
length,  coming  to  the  mouth  of  a  sluggish  rivulet, 


198       Ube  Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

he  started  to  wade  across  it,  not  carefully  observ- 
ing how  he  set  down  his  feet  in  the  tangle  of  weeds 
and  eel-grass.  From  under  the  tangle  came  a 
muffled  "  click."  With  a  startled  squawk  he  lifted 
his  wings,  as  something  grabbed  him  by  the  toes, 
and  held  him  fast.  He  was  in  the  iron  clutch  of  a 
muskrat  trap. 

That  one  squawk  was  the  only  sound  he  uttered ; 
but  his  powerful  wings  threshed  the  air  desperately 
as  he  strained  to  wrench  himself  free.  There  was 
no  such  thing,  of  course,  as  relaxing  the  strong 
jaws  of  the  trap,  or  wrenching  his  foot  free;  but 
he  did  succeed  in  pulling  the  trap  up  from  its  bed 
under  the  water-grass  and  dragging  it  out  upon 
the  shore  to  the  full  limit  of  the  light  chain  which 
held  it.  Having  accomplished  this  much,  he  was 
quiet  for  some  minutes,  while  his  fierce  eyes 
scrutinized  with  fear  and  wonder  the  incompre- 
hensible creature  which  had  fastened  upon  him. 
After  three  or  four  frantic  efforts  to  stab  it  with 
his  redoubtable  beak,  he  was  quick  to  realize  that 
this  was  an  invulnerable  foe.  He  seemed  to  realize, 
also,  that  it  was  an  inanimate  foe ;  for  after  due 
consideration  he  set  himself  to  pulling  it  and 
feeling  it  with  the  tip  of  his  beak,  seeking  some 
way  of  getting  rid  of  it.  At  last,  finding  all  this 


HE  WAS  IN  THE  IRON  CLUTCH  OF  A  MUSKRAT  TRAP." 


t>eron  in  tbe  IReeDs  199 

temperate  effort  useless,  he  blazed  out  into  a 
frantic  rage.  He  would  jump,  and  tug,  and  flop, 
and  spring  into  the  air,  and  almost  wrench  the 
captive  toes  from  their  sockets.  But  all  he  accom- 
plished was  to  make  his  leg  ache  intolerably,  clear 
up  to  the  thigh.  At  length  he  desisted  and  stood 
trembling,  so  exhausted  that  he  could  hardly 
keep  his  feet. 

Meanwhile,  it  chanced  that  two  boys  in  a  birch- 
bark  canoe  were  paddling  up  the  river.  The 
extraordinary  antics  of  the  blue  heron  caught 
their  eyes.  They  had  never  heard  that  this  most 
stately  of  birds  was  subject  to  fits ;  and  they  were 
filled  with  wonder.  Paddling  ashore  with  all 
speed,  they  momently  expected  the  great  bird  to 
recover  himself  at  their  approach  and  flop  heavily 
away,  as  herons  are  wont  to  do  when  one  seeks  to 
observe  them  too  closely.  When  near  enough, 
however,  to  see  what  the  trouble  was,  they  were 
much  elated,  as  they  had  long  wanted  to  capture 
a  blue  heron  and  observe  his  habits  in  captivity. 

As  the  boys  ran  their  canoe  ashore  the  bird  was 
just  yielding  to  exhaustion.  His  dauntless  spirit, 
however,  was  by  no  means  broken  by  his  misfor- 
tune. At  sight  of  the  intruders  his  fierce  eyes 
hardened,  and  his  head  drew  back  warily  between 


200       Ube  Tbaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

his  shoulders.  "  Look  out!  Don't  go  near  that 
beak!  "  shouted  the  elder  boy,  as  the  younger 
sprang  forward  to  secure  the  coveted  prize. 

The  warning  came  barely  in  time.  That  long 
neck  had  flashed  forward  to  its  full  length,  —  and 
just  fallen  short  of  the  enemy's  stockinged  leg. 

"  Gee  whizz!  "  exclaimed  the  lad,  with  a  nerv- 
ous laugh.  "  If  that  had  struck,  I  guess  it  would 
have  gone  clean  through!  How  are  we  going  to 
disarm  him?  " 

"  Watch  me!  "  said  the  elder,  as  he  snatched 
up  his  coat  from  the  canoe.  This  effective  weapon 
he  threw  over  the  bird's  head;  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  captive  was  so  securely  trussed  up  that 
he  could  do  nothing  but  eye  his  captors  with 
implacable  and  indomitable  hate.  The  cruel  trap 
was  removed  from  his  toes,  and  their  bruises  care- 
fully washed.  Then  very  respectfully  he  was 
deposited  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and  in  high 
elation  the  boys  paddled  off. 

They  had  not  gone  far,  however,  when  a  thought 
struck  them  both  at  the  same  time,  and  both 
stopped  paddling.  They  looked  at  each  other 
with  misgivings. 

"  Well,  what  is  it?  "  asked  the  younger,  reluc- 
tantly. 


Iberon  in  tbe  IReefcs  201 

"I'm  afraid,"  answered  the  elder,  "  it's  a  blame 
mean  trick  we're  playing  on  the  old  bird,  at  this 
season !  Eh  ?  What  do  you  think  ? ' ' 

"  Perhaps  so!  "  assented  the  other  with  a  sigh, 
looking  wistfully  down  at  their  prize.  "  I  never 
thought  about  the  young  ones." 

Without  a  word  more  they  proceeded  to  loose 
the  bonds  of  their  prisoner.  The  moment  he  was 
free  he  struck  at  them  savagely;  but  they  had 
been  on  guard  against  such  ingratitude,  and  got 
out  of  the  way  in  time.  Then  he  sprang  into  the 
air  and  flapped  away  indignantly ;  while  the  boys 
stared  after  him  wistfully,  half -repenting  of  their 
gentleness. 


Un  tbe  Deep  of  tbe  Silences 


the  ancient  wild  there  were  three 
great  silences  that  held  their  habita- 
tions unassailed.  They  were  the  silence 
of  the  deep  of  the  lake,  the  silence  of  the  dark 
heart  of  the  cedar  swamp,  and  the  silence  of  the 
upper  air,  high  above  the  splintered  peak  of  the 
mountain. 

To  this  immeasurable  quiet  of  upper  air  but  one 
of  all  the  earth  sounds  could  come.  That  one 
sound  was  of  such  quality  that  it  seemed  rather 
to  intensify  the  silence  than  disturb  it.  It  was  so 
absolutely  alone,  so  naked  of  all  that  murmurous 
background  which  sustains  yet  obscures  the  indi- 
vidual sounds  of  earth's  surface,  that  it  served 
merely  as  an  accent  to  the  silence.  It  was  the 
fine,  vibrant  hiss  of  the  smitten  air  against  the 
tense  feathers  of  the  soaring  eagle. 

Through  the  immense,  unclouded  solitude  the 
eagle  swung  majestically  in  a  great  circle.  At  one 


"HIS    COURSE    TOOK     HIM    FAR    OUT    OVER 
THE     SOUNDLESS     SPACES." 


In  tbe  Deep  of  tbe  Silences         203 

point  in  the  vast,  deliberate  swing  he  was  directly 
above  the  bald,  deep-riven  peak  of  granite  up- 
thrust  from  its  mantling  forest  of  firs,  —  directly 
above  it,  at  a  height  of  not  more  than  a  few 
hundred  feet.  The  rest  of  his  course  took  him  far 
out  over  the  soundless  spaces  of  the  landscape, 
which  formed  an  enormous  bowl  rimmed  by  the 
turquoise  horizon.  The  bowl  was  all  a  many- 
shaded  green,  stains  of  the  light  green  of  birch  and 
poplar  blending  with  the  austere  green-black  of 
fir,  cedar,  and  hemlock.  Here  and  there  through 
the  dense  colour  gleamed  sharply  the  loops  and 
coils  of  three  watercourses  and  at  the  centre  of  the 
bowl,  glowing  in  the  transparent  brilliancy  of  the 
northern  day,  shone  the  clear  mirror  of  the  lake. 
At  that  point  of  his  aerial  path  when  the  eagle 
swung  farthest  from  the  peak,  he  hung  straight 
over  the  middle  of  the  lake  and  looked  down  into 
its  depths. 

Though  no  lightest  breath  was  astir  far  down 
on  the  lake  surface  and  not  a  tree-top  swayed  in 
the  forest,  up  here  where  the  eagle  was  soaring 
streamed  a  viewless  and  soundless  wind.  So  it 
came  about  that  at  some  portions  of  his  swing 
the  eagle's  wide,  apparently  moveless  wings  would 
tilt  a  little,  careening  ever  so  slightly,  and  their 


204       ^be  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

tense-webbed  feathers  would  set  themselves  at  a 
delicately  different  angle  to  the  air-current. 
When  this  took  place,  there  would  be  a  different 
note  in  that  strange  whisper.  The  vibrant  hiss 
would  change  to  a  faint,  ghostly  humming,  which 
again  would  fade  away  as  the  rigid  feathers 
readjusted  themselves  to  another  point  of  the 
gigantic  curve. 

Over  the  soaring  black  wings  the  intense  sap- 
phire of  the  zenith  thrilled  and  melted;  but  the 
eyes  of  the  eagle  were  not  directed  upward,  since 
there  was  nothing  above  him  but  sky,  and  air,  and 
the  infinitude  of  silence.  As  he  swung,  his  gleam- 
ing, snow-white  head  and  neck  were  stretched 
downward  toward  the  earth.  His  fierce  yellow 
eyes,  unwavering,  brilliant,  and  clear  like  crystal, 
deep  set  beneath  straight,  overhanging  brows, 
searched  the  far  panorama  with  an  incredibly 
piercing  gaze.  At  such  a  distance  that  the  most 
penetrating  human  eye  —  the  eye  of  a  sailor,  a 
plains'  ranger,  a  backwoods'  huntsman,  or  an 
enumerator  of  the  stars  —  could  not  discern  him 
in  his  soundless  altitude,  he  could  mark  the  fall  of 
a  leaf  or  the  scurry  of  a  mouse  in  the  sedge-grass. 

Though  the  range  of  his  marvellous  vision  was 
so  vast,  the  eagle  could  not  see  beneath  the  surfaces 


Un  tbe  H)eep  ot  tbe  Silences        205 

of  the  lake  except  when  he  soared  straight  over  it. 
At  one  point  in  his  course  the  baffling  reflections 
of  the  surface  vanished,  and  his  gaze  pierced  to 
the  bottom.  But  from  all  other  points  the  lake 
presented  to  him  either  a  mirror  of  stainless  blue, 
or  a  dazzling  shield  of  bright  steel. 

For  an  hour  or  more,  on  wide,  untiring  wings, 
the  great  bird  sailed  and  watched.  The  furtive 
life  of  the  wilderness,  all  unaware  of  that  high 
impending  doom,  revealed  itself  to  him,  yet  he 
saw  nothing  to  draw  him  down  out  of  his  realm 
of  silence. 

Except  for  that  mysterious  whisper  of  the 
smitten  air  in  his  own  wings,  it  was  to  the  eagle  as 
if  all  the  action  and  movement  of  earth  had  been 
struck  dumb.  Once  he  saw  a  black  cow  moose, 
tormented  with  flies,  lurch  out  madly  from  the 
thickets  and  plunge  wallowing  into  the  lake. 
High  splashed  and  flashed  the  water  about  her 
floundering  bulk ;  but  not  a  whisper  of  it  came  up 
to  him.  Once  he  saw  a  pair  of  swimming  loons 
stretching  their  necks  alternately  as  high  as  they 
could  above  the  water,  and  opening  wide  their 
straight,  sharp  beaks.  He  well  knew  the  strident, 
wild  cries  with  which  they  were  answering  each 
other,  setting  loose  a  rout  6f  crazy  echoes  all  up 


206       zibe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  down  the  shores.  But  not  a  ghost  of  an  echo 
reached  him.  It  was  all  dumb  show.  And  once, 
on  the  lower  slope  of  the  mountain,  an  ancient 
fir-tree,  its  foothold  on  the  rocks  worn  away  by 
frost  and  flood  of  countless  seasons,  fell  into  the 
ravine.  He  saw  the  mighty  downward  sweep  and 
plunge,  the  convulsion  of  branches  below;  but  of 
the  sullen  roar  that  startled  the  mountainside 
no  faintest  sound  arose  to  him. 

At  last,  as  he  was  wheeling  over  the  centre  of 
the  lake,  his  inescapable  eye  saw  something  which 
interested  him.  His  great  wings  flapped  heavily, 
checking  his  course.  He  tipped  suddenly,  half- 
shut  his  wings,  and  shot  straight  downward  per- 
haps a  thousand  feet.  Here  he  stopped  his  de- 
scent with  a  sharp  upward  turn  which  made  the 
wind  whistle  harshly  in  his  wings.  And  here  he 
hung,  hovering,  watching,  waiting  for  the  oppor- 
tunity that  now  seemed  close  at  hand. 


In  the  heart  of  the  cedar  swamp  the  silence  was 
thick,  brooding,  and  imperishable.  One  felt  that 
if  ever  any  wandering  sound,  any  lost  bird-cry  or 
call  of  wayfaring  beaSt,  should  drop  into  it,  the 


1Fn  tbe  H)eep  of  tbe  Silences        207 

intruding  voice  would  be  straightway  engulfed, 
smothered,  and  forgotten. 

The  ground  beneath  the  stiff  branches  and  be- 
tween the  gray,  ragged,  twisted  trunks  was 
grotesquely  humped  with  moss-grown  roots  and 
pitted  with  pools  of  black  water.  Here  and  there 
amid  the  heavy  moss  fat  fungoid  growths  thrust 
up  their  heads,  dead  white,  or  cold  red,  or  pink,  or 
spotted  orange.  The  few  scattered  herbs  that 
flourished  among  the  humped  and  dangerous 
pools  were  solitary  in  habit,  broad  of  leaf,  tall  and 
succulent  of  stalk.  Not  one  of  them  bore  any 
gay  or  perfumed  blossom,  to  lure  into  the  swamp 
the  brightness  of  a  butterfly  or  the  homely  hum- 
ming of  wild  bees. 

The  only  bird  that  habitually  endured  the 
stillness  and  the  gloom  of  the  cedar  swamp  was 
a  shadowy,  silent,  elusive  little  nuthatch,  which 
spent  its  time  slipping  up  and  down  the  ragged 
trunks,  uttering  at  wide  intervals-  its  faint,  brief 
note.  So  furtive  a  being,  and  so  shy  and  rare  a 
voice,  only  made  the  silence  more  impressive, 
the  solitude  more  profound. 

A  great  black  bulk,  moving  noiselessly  as  a 
shadow  hither  and  thither  among  the  shadows, 
seemed  the  spirit  of  the  swamp  made  palpable. 


2o8       ft  be  ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

The  old  bear,  having  learned  that  certain  of  the 
big  toadstools  growing  in  the  swamp  were  very 
good  to  eat,  had  taken  to  haunting  the  silence  of 
the  glooms  in  the  season  when  the  fungoids 
flourished.  The  solitude  and  the  stillness  suited 
his  morose  temper;  and  for  all  his  seeming  awk- 
wardness he  moved  as  delicately  as  a  cat.  His 
great  sharp-clawed  feet  seemed  shod  with  velvet, 
and  never  a  twig  snapped  under  his  stealthy 
tread.  It  was  not  through  fear  that  he  went  thus 
softly,  for  he  feared  no  creature  of  the  wilderness. 
But  the  heavy  silence  was  attuned  to  his  mood; 
and  besides,  he  never  knew  when  he  might  surprise 
some  mouse,  water-rat,  or  mink  that  would  fur- 
nish variety  to  his  toadstool  diet. 

Such  a  fortunate  surprise,  however,  could  befall 
him  but  seldom  in  the  empty  solitude  of  the 
swamp.  So  it  happened  that,  one  day  when  he 
tired  of  the  fat,  insipid  fungoids,  his  thought 
turned  to  the  lake,  on  whose  shores  he  had  some- 
times found  dead  fish.  He  remembered,  with 
watering  chops,  that  he  had  even  once  or  twice 
been  able  to  catch  live  fish,  close  in  shore,  by  lying 
in  wait  for  them  with  exhaustless  patience  and 
scooping  them  up  at  last  with  a  lightning  sweep 
of  the  paw. 


"  FOR    ALL    HIS    SEEMING    AWKWARDNESS    HE    MOVED    AS    DELICATELY 
AS    A    CAT." 


Hn  tbe  Beep  of  tbe  Silences        209 

Ignoring  the  toadstools,  he  turned  straight 
south,  and  made  his  way  toward  the  lake.  He 
travelled  swiftly,  winding  this  way  and  that 
between  the  green,  humped  roots,  the  gray  trunks, 
and  the  black  water-pits.  But  swiftly  as  he  went, 
his  movement  left  no  trail  of  sound  behind  it. 
A  shadow  could  not  have  moved  more  noiselessly. 
It  was  as  if  the  age-old  silence  simply  seized  and 
folded  away  for  ever  the  impact  of  his  great  foot- 
falls on  the  moss.  When  at  length  he  caught  the 
flash  of  the  bright  water  ahead  of  him  through 
the  trees,  he  moved  even  more  cautiously,  so 
extreme  was  his  circumspection.  Reaching  the 
edge  of  the  cedar  growth,  he  slipped  unseen 
into  a  thicket  of  red  willows  which  afforded  a 
convenient  ambush,  and  peered  out  warily  to 
assure  himself  as  to  what  might  be  going  on 
around  the  shores.  •  For  a  long  while  he  crouched 
there  as  moveless  as  a  stone,  that  if  by  mis- 
chance his  coming  had  given  alarm  to  any  of 
the  wilderness  folk,  suspicion  might  have  time  to 
die  away. 

in 

In  the  mid-deep  of  the  lake  the  silence  was  abso- 
lute. There  was  no  hiss  of  tense  feathers  to  accen- 


2io       Ube  Uaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

tuate  it,  as  in  the  upper  vast  of  air.  There  was  no 
fading  and  elusive  bird-note  to  measure  it  by,  as 
in  the  gloom  of  the  cedar  swamp.  Down  in  the 
gold-brown  glimmer  the  fine  silt  lay  unstirred  on 
the  stones.  There  was  no  movement,  except  the 
delicate,  almost  imperceptible  waving  of  the  great 
trout's  coloured  fins. 

In  the  shallower  water  along  the  edges  of  the 
lake  there  was  always  a  faint  confusion  of  small 
sounds.  The  slow  breathing  of  the  lake,  as  it  were, 
kept  up  a  rhythmic,  almost  invisible  motion 
among  the  smaller  pebbles,  making  a  crisp  whisper 
which  the  water  carried  far  beneath  the  surface 
while  it  could  not  be  heard  at  all  in  the  air  above. 
But  none  of  this  stir  reached  the  silent  deeps 
where  the  big  trout,  morose  and  enamoured  of  his 
solitude,  lay  lazily  opening  and  shutting  his  crim- 
son gills. 

Because  the  water  of  the  lake  was  dark,  — 
amber-tinted  from  the  swamps  about  its  shores, — 
the  colours  of  the  trout  were  dark,  strong,  and 
vivid.  His  strangely  patterned  back  was  almost 
black,  yet  brilliant,  like  some  kinds  of  damascened 
steel.  His  belly  was  bright  pink.  His  sides  had 
a  purplish  hue,  on  which  the  rows  of  intense  ver- 
milion spots  stood  out  almost  incongruously. 


Un  tbe  2>eep  of  tbe  Silences        211 

His  fins  were  as  gaudy  as  the  petals  of  some  red- 
and- white  flower. 

The  trout  was  staring  upward  with  his  blank, 
lidless  eyes.  He  was  hungry,  and  he  felt  that  it 
was  from  that  direction  that  food  was  like  to  come 
to  him  most  easily.  Smaller  fish  had  learned, 
from  the  fate  of  so  many  of  their  fellows,  to  shun 
the  haunted  stillness  of  this  mid-lake  depth;  and 
the  big  trout  was  growing  tired  of  caddis  bait  and 
such  small  game. 

The  surface  of  the  lake,  as  he  looked  up  at  it, 
presented  to  him  a  sort  of  semitransparent 
mirror,  thronged  with  reflections,  yet  allowing  the 
sky  overhead,  and  the  shadows  of  many  dreaming 
insects,  to  show  through.  If  a  swallow,  for  instance, 
or  a  low-winged  snipe,  flew  over,  the  trout  could 
see  not  only  the  bird  itself,  and  the  shadow  of  the 
bird  on  the  bottom,  but  also  a  dim,  swift-moving 
reflection  of  the  shadow,  on  the  silvery  mirror 
above.  If  a  swallow's  wing-tip  flicked  the  surface, 
sending  down  a  bright  little  jet  of  bubbles,  these 
bubbles  also  would  double  themselves  in  reflections 
as  they  darted  up  again  and  vanished  in  the  mir- 
roring ripples. 

All  this,  however,  was  of  little  interest  to  the 
hungry  trout,  till  he  caught  sight  of  a  large  butter- 


212        Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

fly  zigzagging  languidly  close  above  the  water. 
Its  flight  was  so  feeble  that  the  big  fish's  expecta- 
tions were  aroused.  Slowly  he  started  upwards, 
to  be  on  hand  for  whatever  favour  fortune  might 
have  in  store  for  him. 

As  he  swam  up  out  of  the  gloom,  the  butterfly 
flickered  above  him,  and  its  big  shadow  danced 
along  the  bottom  beside  his  own.  A  small  beetle,  its 
wings  all  outspread,  struck  the  surface  violently 
close  by,  shattering  the  mirror  for  a  second,  then 
starting  a  series  of  tiny  ripples.  The  big  trout 
paid  no  heed  to  the  convulsive  gyrations  of  the 
beetle.  He  was  wholly  intent  upon  the  butterfly, 
whose  faltering  flight  drooped  ever  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  shining  flood.  At  last,  the  splendid 
painted  wings  failed  to  flutter;  and  lightly,  softly, 
like  a  leaf,  the  gorgeous  insect  sank  upon  the 
water,  hardly  marring  the  surface.  Without  a 
struggle,  without  even  a  quiver.  They  rested,  — 
for  perhaps  a  second.  Then,  there  was  a  heavy 
boil  in  the  water  immediately  beneath.  A  pair  of 
black  jaws  opened.  The  dead  butterfly  was 
sucked  down.  With  a  wanton  flick  of  his  broad, 
powerful  tail,  just  above  the  surface,  the  big  trout 
turned  to  sink  back  into  the  watery  silence  with 
his  spoils. 


"THE    WATER    SPLASHED    HIGH    AND    WHITE    ABOUT    HIM." 


Hn  tbe  Deep  of  tbe  Silences         213 
\ 

IV 

There  was  a  harsh,  strong  hissing  in  the  air, 
and  a  dark  body  fell  out  of  the  sky.  Fell  ?  Rather 
it  seemed  to  have  been  shot  downward  from  a 
catapult.  No  mere  falling  could  be  so  swift  as 
that  sheer  yet  governed  descent.  Just  at  the 
surface  of  the  water  the  wedge  of  the  eagle's 
body  turned,  his  snow-white  head  and  neck  bent 
upwards,  his  broad  wings  spread,  and  beat  heavily. 
In  spite  of  the  terrific  force  of  his  descent,  his  body 
did  not  go  wholly  under  water,  but  the  water 
splashed  high  and  white  about  him.  The  next 
instant  he  rose  clear,  flapping  ponderously.  In 
the  iron  clutch  of  his  talons  writhed  the  great 
trout,  gripped  behind  the  head  and  by  the  middle 
of  the  back,  its  tail  thrashing  spasmodically. 

Never  before  had  this  fierce  and  majestic 
visitant  from  the  upper  silence  fallen  upon  so 
difficult  a  prey.  Its  weight,  alone,  was  all  that 
his  mighty  wings  could  lift;  and  its  vehement 
writhings  were  so  full  of  energy  that  it  was  all  he 
could  do  to  hold  it.  With  his  most  strenuous 
flapping,  he  could  hardly  lift  the  victim  clear  of 
the  water.  To  bear  it  off  to  his  lonely  rock-ledge 
on  the  peak  was  manifestly  impossible.  After  a 
few  moments  of  laborious  indecision  he  beat  his 


214       ftbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

way  heavily  toward  shore.  Nowhere,  up  and  down 
the  beach,  in  the  thickets,  or  in  the  dark  corri- 
dors of  the  forest,  could  his  piercing  eyes  detect 
any  foe. 

The  nearest  point  of  land  was  an  arrow  ribbon  of 
clean  white  rock  with  a  screen  of  Indian  willow 
close  behind  it.  This  point  he  made  for.  A  few 
feet  above  the  water's  edge  he  alighted.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  haughtily,  his  hard,  implacable 
yellow  eyes  challenging  the  wilderness.  Then,  his 
snake-like  white  head  stooped  quickly  forward, 
and  his  powerful  beak  bit  clear  through  to  the 
victim's  back-bone,  a  little  behind  the  spot  where 
it  joined  the  neck.  The  trout's  body  stiffened 
straight  out,  with  a  strong  shudder,  then  lay  limp 
and  still.  Very  deliberately,  as  if  scorning  to 
display  his  hunger,  the  royal  bird  began  to  make 
his  meal. 

But  one  palpitating  morsel  had  gone  down  his 
outstretched,  snowy  throat,  when  it  seemed  to 
him  that  a  leaf  whispered  in  the  willow  thicket 
behind  him.  There  was  no  air  stirring,  so  why 
should  a  leaf  wrhisper?  His  claws  relaxed  their 
grip  upon  the  prey;  his  wings  shot  out  and  gave 
one  powerful  flap;  he  bounced  lightly  upward 
and  aside.  At  the  same  moment  a  black  bulk 


1ht  tbe  Beep  of  tbe  Silences         215 

burst  out  from  the  willow  thicket,  and  a  great 
black  paw  smote  at  him  savagely. 

The  eagle  had  sprung  aside  just  in  time.  Had 
that  terrific  buffet  fairly  reached  him,  never  again 
would  he  have  mounted  to  his  aerial  haunts  of 
silence.  But  as  it  was,  the  sweep  of  the  black  paw 
just  touched  the  bird's  tail.  Two  or  three  dark, 
regal  feathers  fluttered  to  the  ground.  His 
spacious  pinions  caught  the  air  and  winnowed 
out  a  few  feet  over  the  water.  The  bear,  content 
at  having  captured  the  prize,  paid  no  more  atten- 
tion to  him,  but  greedily  fell  upon  the  prey. 

Ordinarily,  an  eagle  would  no  more  think  of 
interfering  with  a  bear  than  of  assailing  a  granite 
boulder.  But  in  this  case  the  aggravation  was 
unprecedented.  Never  before  had  the  "  King  of 
the  Air  "  known  what  it  was  to  have  his  lawful 
prey  and  hard-won  spoils  snatched  from  him. 
With  a  sudden  sharp  yelp  of  rage  he  whirled,  shot 
upward,  and  swooped,  with  a  twang  of  stiff-set 
feathers,  straight  at  his  adversary's  head.  Totally 
unprepared  for  such  a  daring  assault,  the  bear 
could  not  ward  it  off.  Several  sudden  red  gashes 
on  his  head  showed  where  those  knife-like  talons 
had  struck.  "  Wah  !  "  he  bawled,  half-rising  on 
his  haunches  and  throwing  up  a  great  forearm 


216       ftbe  tbaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

in  defence.  The  eagle,  swooping  upward  out  of 
reach,  swung  round  and  hovered  as  if  about  to 
repeat  the  attack. 

As  the  bear  crouched,  half-sitting,  one  paw  on 
the  mangled  prey,  the  other  uplifted  in  readiness 
for  stroke  or  parry,  the  furious  bird  hesitated. 
He  knew  the  full  menace  of  that  massive  upraised 
paw,  which,  clumsy  though  it  looked,  could  strike 
as  swiftly  as  the  darting  head  of  a  snake.  For  all 
his  rage,  he  had  no  mind  to  risk  a  maimed  wing. 
In  a  second  or  two  he  swooped  again,  this  time 
as  if  to  catch  the  foe  in  the  back ;  but  he  took  care 
not  to  come  too  close.  The  bear  whirled  on  his 
haunches,  and  struck  viciously;  but  his  claws 
met  nothing  but  empty  air,  while  a  stiff  wing-tip 
brushed  smartingly  across  his  eyes. 

Again,  and  yet  again,  the  eagle  swooped,  never 
coming  quite  within  reach.  Again  and  yet  again 
the  bear,  boiling  with  embarrassed  fury,  whirled 
and  struck,  but  in  vain.  He  struck  nothing  more 
tangible  than  air.  The  sharp  indignant  yelps  of 
the  great  bird  flapping  close  above  him  were  a 
defiance  which  he  could  not  answer.  He  had  the 
prize,  but  he  could  not  enjoy  it.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments he  hesitated.  Then  doggedly  he  crouched 
down,  with  his  head  partly  shielded  between  his 


flu  tbe  H)eep  of  tbe  Stlences         217 

fore  paws,  and  fell  to  eating  hurriedly.  Before 
he  could  fairly  swallow  one  mouthful,  the  air 
again  hissed  ominously  in  his  ears,  and  those 
clutching  talons  tore  at  his  neck.  With  a  roar  of 
pain,  and  wrath,  and  discomfiture,  he  snatched  the 
prey  up  in  his  jaws,  and  plunged  into  the  thicket 
with  his  head  well  down  between  his  legs.  As  he 
vanished  the  implacable  talons  struck  once  more, 
ripping  red  furrows  in  the  black  fur  of  his  rump. 

Smarting,  and  grumbling  heavily,  the  bear  lay 
down  in  the  heart  of  the  willow  thicket,  and 
finished  devouring  the  great  trout.  Still  yelping, 
the  eagle  circled  above  the  thicket.  Through  the 
leafy  branches  he  could  see  the  black  form  of  his 
adversary;  but  into  the  thicket  he  dared  not 
swoop  lest  he  should  be  caught  at  a  disadvantage 
there.  For  a  long  time  he  circled,  hoping  that  his 
enemy  would  come  out  and  give  him  another 
opportunity  of  vengeance.  Then,  seeing  that 
the  bear  lay  motionless,  apparently  asleep,  his 
rage  wore  itself  out.  Higher  he  whirled,  and  yet 
higher,  while  the  wary  beast  in  the  thicket  watched 
patiently  for  his  going..  Then  suddenly  he  changed 
his  course.  With  long,  splendid  sweep  of  wing  he 
made  off  in  direct  flight,  slanting  swiftly  upward 
toward  the  blue  silence  above  the  peak. 


©n  tbe  IRigbt  ftrail 

radiant,  blue- white,  midwinter  moon- 
light, flooding  the  little  open  space  of 
WThite  in  the  blackness  of  the  spruce 
forest,  revealed  the  frozen  fragments  of  a  big 
lake  trout  scattered  over  the  snow.  They  stood 
out  sharply,  so  that  no  midnight  forager  of  the 
wilds,  prowling  in  the  fringes  of  the  shadow  and 
peering  forth  in  the  watch  for  prey  or  foe,  could 
by  any  possibility  fail  to  sight  them. 

The  stillness  of  the  solitude  was  intense,  breath- 
less, as  if  sealed  to  perpetual  silence  by  the  bitter 
cold.  At  last,  at  one  corner  of  the  open,  a  spruce 
branch  that  leaned  upon  the  snow  stirred  ever  so 
slightly;  and  from  its  shelter  a  little  gray-brown 
nose,  surmounted  by  a  pair  of  tiny  eyes  like  black 
beads,  anxiously  surveyed  the  perilous  space  of 
illumination.  For  perhaps  half  a  minute  there  was 
not  another  movement.  Then  the  shrew-mouse, 
well  aware  that  death  might  be  watching  him 
from  under  every  tree,  plucked  up  a  desperate 
218 


THE    SHREW-MOUSE   .    .    .    DARTED   OUT   INTO   THE    LIGHT. 


©n  tbe  IFUobt  Urail  219 

valour  and  darted  out  into  the  light.  The  goad 
of  his  winter  hunger  driving  him,  he  seized  the 
nearest  bit  of  fish  that  was  small  enough  for  him  to 
handle,  and  scurried  back  with  it  to  his  safe  hole 
under  a  fir-root.  It  was  brave  adventure,  and 
deserved  its  success. 

For  ten  minutes  more  nothing  happened  to 
break  the  stillness.  Then  again  the  little  shrew- 
mouse  peered  from  the  covert  of  his  hanging 
branch.  This  time,  however,  he  drew  back  in- 
stantly. He  had  caught  sight  of  a  pointed  black 
head  and  snake-like  neck  stealthily  reconnoitring 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  open.  A  hungry 
mink  was  making  ready  to  appropriate  some  of 
the  fish;  but  since  he  knew  that  a  forest  glade, 
far  from  the  water,  was  not  a  customary  resort  of 
fish,  alive  or  frozen,  he  was  inclined  to  be  sus- 
picious of  some  kind  of  trap  or  ambuscade. 
Instead  of  looking  at  the  delicious  morsels,  there 
in  plain,  alluring  view,  he  scanned  piercingly  the 
shadows  and  drooping  branches  which  encircled 
the  glade.  Suddenly  he  seemed  to  detect  some- 
thing to  his  distaste.  A  red  gleam  of  anger  and 
ferocity  flared  into  his  eyes,  and  he  sank  back 
noiselessly  into  covert. 

A  moment  later  came  a  huge  lynx,  padding 


220       Ube  Tbaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

softly  but  fearlessly  straight  out  into  the  revealing 
light,  as  if  he  knew  that  at  this  season,  when  the 
bears  were  asleep  and  the  bull  moose,  bereft  of 
their  antlers,  had  lost  their  interest  in  combat, 
there  was  none  of  all  the  forest  kindreds  to  chal- 
lenge his  supremacy.  He  was  stealthy,  of  course, 
in  every  movement,  and  his  round,  sinister  eyes 
glared  palely  into  every  covert,  but  that  was 
merely  because  he  dreaded  to  frighten  off  a  possible 
quarry,  not  because  he  feared  a  lurking  foe.  The 
frozen  fish,  however,  showed  no  signs  of  flight  at 
his  approach ;  so  he  fell  upon  the  nearest  frag- 
ment and  bolted  it  ravenously. 

Having  thus  eagerly  disposed  of  several  sub- 
stantial lumps,  the  great  lynx  became  more  crit- 
ical, and  went  sniffing  fastidiously  from  morsel  to 
morsel  as  if  he  revelled  in  such  unexpected  abun- 
dance. Suddenly  there  was  a  vicious  click;  and 
with  a  spit  and  a  yowl  the  lynx  started  as  if  to 
jump  into  the  air.  Instead  of  rising,  however, 
some  six  or  seven  feet,  under  the  propulsion  of  his 
mighty,  spring-like  muscles,  he  merely  bowed  his 
back  and  strained  tremendously.  In  response, 
a  small  thing  of  dark  steel  emerged  from  the  snow, 
followed  closely  by  a  log  of  heavy  wood.  The 
lynx  was  caught  in  a  trap  by  his  right  fore  foot. 


"  HIS    ROUND,    SINISTER    EYES   GLARED    PALELY    INTO    EVERY 
COVERT." 


<§>n  tbe  Bfabt  Urail  221 

For  a  minute  or  two  the  panic-stricken  beast 
went  through  a  number  of  more  or  less  aimless 
contortions,  spitting  and  screeching,  biting  at  the 
trap,  and  clawing  frantically  at  the  log.  Presently, 
however,  finding  that  his  contortions  only  made 
the  thing  that  had  him  grip  the  harder  and  hurt 
him  the  more  savagely,  he  halted  to  consider  his 
predicament.  Consideration  not  appearing  to 
ease  that  urgent  anguish  in  his  paw,  he  began  to 
strain  steadily  backward,  hoping,  if  he  could  not 
free  himself,  at  least  to  drag  his  captor  into  the 
woods  and  perhaps  lose  it  among  the  trees.  The 
log,  however,  was  very  heavy,  and  his  best  efforts 
could  move  it  but  a  few  inches  at  a  time.  When, 
at  the  end  of  an  hour  of  fierce  struggle,  he  lay 
down  utterly  exhausted,  he  was  still  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  moon,  still  several  feet  from  the  shelter 
of  the  branches.  But  no  sooner  had  he  lain  down, 
than  the  crunching  of  a  footstep  on  the  crisp  snow 
brought  him  to  his  feet  again;  and  with  every 
hair  on  end  along  his  back,  his  eyes  ablaze  with 
rage  and  fear,  he  turned  to  face  the  tall  figure  of  a 
backwoodsman,  who  stood  gazing  at  him  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction  from  the  other  side  of  the 
glade. 

Just  about  three  hours  earlier,  on  his  way  into 


222       t£be  fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

the  Cross  Roads  Settlement,  Pete  Logan  had  set 
that  trap  with  particular  care,  and  with  the  defi- 
nite purpose  of  capturing  that  particular  lynx. 
With  all  his  cunning,  little  did  the  great  tuft-eared 
cat  suspect  that  for  weeks  the  backwoodsman 
had  been  watching  him,  noting  his  haunts  and 
trails,  observing  his  peculiarities,  and  laying  plans 
for  his  capture.  That  very  evening,  at  the  Cross 
Roads,  Logan  had  boasted  that  single-handed  he 
would  bring  the  big  lynx  into  the  Settlement, 
alive  and  undamaged.  He  wanted  the  splendid 
animal  to  sell  to  an  American  who  was  collecting 
wild  beasts  for  menageries;  and  to  avoid  injuring 
the  captive's  fine  gray  fur  he  had  partly  muffled 
the  cruel  teeth  of  the  trap,  that  they  might  take 
hold  without  tearing. 

Having  no  dread  of  anything  that  inhabited 
the  wilds,  Logan  had  left  his  rifle  at  home,  and 
carried  no  weapon  but  the  knife  in  his  belt  and 
his  light,  straight-hafted  axe.  In  the  pack  on  his 
back,  however,  he  brought  what  he  intended 
should  serve  him  better  than  any  weapon,  —  a 
thick  blanket,  and  a  heavy  canvas  sack.  Now, 
as  he  stood  eying  the  frightened  and  furious  cap- 
tive, he  undid  the  pack  and  shook  the  big  blanket 
loose.  The  lynx  glared  with  new  terror  at  the 


®n  tbe  HtQbt  Urail  223 

ample  folds.  He  had  seen  men  before,  but  he 
had  never  seen  one  shaking  out  a  blanket,  which 
looked  to  him  like  a  kind  of  gigantic  and  awful 
wings. 

Logan  had  made  his  plans  with  careful  foresight ; 
and  now  it  was  with  the  deliberation  of  absolute 
confidence  that  he  went  about  the  execution  of  them. 
His  axe  gripped  in  readiness  for  any  unforeseen 
piece  of  strategy  on  the  part  of  the  foe,  he  ad- 
vanced with  the  blanket  outspread  before  him 
like  a  shield.  Back  and  back,  to  the  limit  of  his 
bonds,  cowered  the  lynx,  glaring  defiance  and 
inextinguishable  hate.  Slowly  the  man  drew 
near,  till,  just  barely  within  reach  of  the  beast's 
spring,  he  stopped.  For  perhaps  half  a  minute 
more  neither  man  nor  beast  stirred  a  muscle,  — 
till  the  tension  of  the  captive's  nerves  must  have 
neared  the  breaking-point.  Then,  as  if  his  own 
nerves  knew  by  sympathy  the  exactly  proper 
moment  for  the  next  move  in  the  game,  Logan 
made  a  swooping  forward  plunge  with  the  blanket. 
With  a  screech  of  fury  the  lynx  sprang  to  the 
grapple,  —  to  find  himself,  in  half  a  second, 
rolled  over  and  tangled  up  and  swathed  helpless 
in  the  smothering  woollen  folds.  In  vain  he  bit, 
and  spat,  and  yowled,  and  tore.  His  keen  white 


224       ITbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

/ 

fangs  caught  nothing  but  choking  wool;  his 
rending  claws  had  no  chance  to  do  their  work; 
and  the  crushing  weight  of  the  woodsman's  sturdy 
body  was  bearing  him  down  into  the  snow.  In  a 
few  moments,  daunted  by  the  thick  darkness  over 
his  eyes  and  exhausted  by  the  impotence  of  his 
efforts,  he  lay  still,  quivering  with  rage.  Then, 
with  the  most  delicate  caution,  working  through 
a  couple  of  folds  of  the  blanket,  Logan  released 
the  jaws  of  the  trap  and  slipped  it  warily  from 
the  imprisoned  paw.  To  remove  it  from  within 
the  perilous  paral  was,  of  course,  not  to  be  thought 
of;  but  he  feared  to  damage  the  joint  by  leaving 
it  in  that  inexorable  clutch  a  moment  longer  than 
was  necessary.  This  done,  he  deftly  whipped  a 
lashing  of  cod-line  about  the  bundle,  binding  the 
legs  securely,  but  leaving  a  measure  of  freedom 
about  the  head  and  neck.  Then  he  thrust  the 
bundle  into  the  canvas  bag,  slung  it  over  his  back, 
and  started  on  the  five-mile  tramp  back  to  his 
camp. 

Logan  travelled  without  snow-shoes,  because 
there  was  just  now  little  snow  on  the  trails,  or 
even  in  the  deep  woods.  What  snow  there  was, 
moreover,  was  frozen  almost  as  hard  as  rock, 
except  for  an  inch  or  two  of  fluffy  stuff  which 


©n  tbe  TCigbt  ttrail  225 

had  fallen  leisurely  within  a  couple  of  days.  An 
extraordinarily  heavy  and  prolonged  January 
thaw,  followed  by  fierce  and  sudden  frost,  had 
brought  about  this  unusual  condition,  making 
something  like  a  famine  among  the  hunting 
kindreds  of  the  forest,  whose  light-footed  quarry, 
the  eaters  of  bark  and  twig  and  bud,  now  found 
flight  easy  over  the  frozen  surfaces. 

The  complacent  trapper,  ruminating  pleasantly 
over  his  triumph  and  the  handsome  price  his 
captive  was  to  bring  him,  had  covered  perhaps  a 
mile  of  his  homeward  journey  when  from  far 
behind  him  came  to  his  ears  a  novel  sound, 
faintly  pulsing  down  the  still  night  air.  Without 
seeming  to  pay  it  any  attention  whatever,  he 
nevertheless  was  instantly  and  keenly  concerned; 
and  he  perceived  that  the  uneasy  bundle  on  his 
back  was  interested  too,  for  it  stopped  its  indig- 
nant wrigglings  to  listen.  Up  to  this  moment 
Logan  had  believed  that  there  was  no  voice  in  all 
the  wilderness  unfamiliar  to  his  ears,  no  speech 
of  all  the  wild  kindreds  which  he  could  not  in 
rough  fashion  interpret.  But  this  cry  he  did  not 
understand.  Presently  it  was  repeated,  a  little 
nearer,  and  a  little  more  convincingly  strange  to 
him.  He  knotted  his  rugged  brows.  A  few  mo- 


226       Hbe  Dauttters  ot  tbe  Silences 

ments  more  and  again  it  floated  down  the  moon- 
light, high,  quavering,  musical,  yet  carrying  in 
its  mysterious  cadences  an  unmistakable  menace. 
Logan  knew  now  to  a  certainty  that  it  was  a  sound 
he  had  never  heard  before;  and  he  knew  what 
it  was,  though  he  refused  to  acknowledge  it  to 
himself,  because  it  was  a  refutation  of  many  of  his 
most  dogmatic  pronouncements. 

"It  ain't  wolves!"  He  muttered  to  himself 
obstinately.  "  Ther'  ain't  never  been  a  wolf  in 
New  Brunswick!  " 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  the  sinister  cry  arose 
again,  nearer  and  yet  nearer;  and  he  was  obliged 
to  confess  to  himself  that,  whatever  it  was,  it  was 
on  his  trail,  and  he  was  likely  to  know  more  about 
it  within  a  few  minutes.  He  was  not  alarmed, 
but  he  was  annoyed,  both  at  the  upsetting  of  his 
theories  and  at  the  absence  of  his  gun.  Undoubt- 
edly, these  Charlotte  County  romancers  had  been 
right.  There  were  wolves  in  New  Brunswick. 
He  was  ready  to  apologize  for  having  so  sarcastic- 
ally questioned  it. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  his  dignity  as  a  woods- 
man would  not  permit  him  to  be  alarmed,  he 
could  not  but  recognize  that  the  cry  upon  his 
trail  was  made  up  of  a  number  of  voices,  and  that 


©n  tbe  IRisbt  Urail  227 


a  number  of  wolves  might  be  capable  of  making 
things  very  unpleasant  for  him.  He  remembered, 
uncomfortably,  that  in  this  weather,  with  the 
snow  so  hard  that  the  deer  could  run  their  fastest 
upon  it,  the  wolves  must  be  extremely  hungry. 
The  more  he  thought  of  this  fact  the  more  clearly 
he  realized  that  the  wolves  must  be  very  hungry 
indeed,  to  dare  to  trail  a  man.  He  had  been 
walking  as  fast  as  he  could;  but  now  he  broke 
into  a  long,  swinging  lope,  his  moccasined  feet 
padding  with  a  soft  whisper  upon  the  snow.  For 
a  moment  he  thought  of  ridding  himself  of  the 
burden  upon  his  back;  but  this  idea  he  rejected 
resentfully  and  with  scorn.  He  was  not  going  to 
be  robbed  of  his  triumph  by  a  bunch  of  rascally, 
interloping  vermin  like  wolves. 

Meanwhile,  the  quavering  high-pitched  chorus 
was  sweeping  swiftly  nearer  through  the  moon- 
light, and  Logan  put  on  a  burst  of  speed  in  order 
to  get  to  a  stretch  of  open  burnt  lands  before  his 
pursuers  should  come  up  with  him.  If  he  was  to 
have  a  fight  forced  upon  him,  he  wanted  plenty 
of  room  and  the  chance  to  keep  all  his  adversaries 
in  plain  view.  He  gained  the  open,  with  its  scat- 
tered black  stumps  and  gaunt,  ghostly  "  ram- 
pikes  "  dotting  the  radiant  silver  of  the  snow, 


228       Ube  Ifoaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  was  some  eighty  or  a  hundred  paces  beyond 
the  edge  of  the  woods  before  the  wolves  appeared. 
Glancing  over  his  shoulder,  he  saw  the  gray  forms 
of  the  pack  halt,  come  close  together,  then  separate 
again,  hesitating  at  the  venture  of  the  open.  The 
hesitation  was  only  for  a  moment,  however. 
Then,  in  formation  so  close  that  one  might  have 
covered  the  whole  pack  with  a  bedquilt,  they 
came  on  again.  His  trained  eye  had  counted  six 
wolves  in  the  pack;  and  he  was  relieved  to  find 
that  there  were  not  more.  From  their  cries  he 
had  imagined  there  must  have  been  thirty  or 
forty. 

Logan  was  too  wise  to  run,  now  that  he  was  in 
view  of  his  foes.  He  stalked  on  with  haughty 
indifference,  till  the  pack  was  within  twenty-five 
or  thirty  yards  of  his  heels.  Then  he  turned,  and 
spoke,  with  an  air  of  sharp,  confident  authority. 
Even  through  their  hunger  and  their  savage  mad- 
ness of  pursuit  the  beasts  felt  the  mastery  of  his 
voice.  They  paused,  irresolutely,  then  opened 
out  and  sat  down  on  their  haunches  to  see  what 
he  would  do. 

After  surveying  them  superciliously  for  a  few 
seconds,  the  woodsman  turned  again  and  stalked 
on,  keeping,  however,  a  keen  watch  over  his 


HE  SAW  THE  GRAY  FORMS  OF  THE  PACK.' 


©n  tbe  IRfQbt  Urail  229 

shoulder  and  his  axe  poised  ready  for  instant  use. 
As  soon  as  he  moved  on,  the  wolves  followed,  but 
no  longer  in  their  pack  formation.  Not  yet 
audacious  enough  to  come  within  ten  or  twelve 
feet  of  this  arrogantly  confident  being,  whose  voice 
had  power  to  daunt  them  in  the  very  heat  of  their 
onslaught,  they  spread  out  on  either  side  of  the 
trail,  half-surrounding  him,  and  keeping  pace 
with  him  at  a  skulking  trot.  Their  jaws  were 
half-open,  their  long  white  fangs  were  bared  in  a 
snarling  grin,  and  their  eyes,  all  fixed  upon  him 
unwinkingly,  glinted  a  green  light  of  ferocity  and 
hunger. 

Little  by  little  they  drew  closer  in,  while  Logan 
pretended  to  ignore  them  contemptuously.  All 
at  once  he  felt,  almost  more  than  saw,  one  of  the 
largest  of  the  pack  dart  in  to  spring  upon  his  back. 
Out  went  the  bright  axe-blade  like  a  flash  of  blue 
flame,  as  he  whirled  on  his  heel;  and  the  wolf 
dropped  with  a  choked-off  yelp,  shorn  through  the 
neck.  Thrice  around  him  he  wheeled  the  circle  of 
the  deadly  blade;  and  the  wolves  deferentially 
slunk  beyond  reach  of  it,  not  yet  ready  to  tempt 
the  fate  of  their  comrade. 

Five  minutes  more,  however,  and  the  wary 
beasts  again  drew  closer  and  Logan  found  that 


230       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

the  strain  of  guarding  himself  on  all  sides  at  once 
was  overwhelming.  At  any  moment,  as  he  knew, 
those  hungry  eyes  might  all  close  in  on  him  to- 
gether. A  few  hundred  yards  ahead,  as  he  be- 
thought himself,  the  trail  led  under  the  foot  of  a 
high,  almost  perpendicular  rock;  and  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  must  reach  that  rock  as 
speedily  as  possible.  With  his  back  against  the 
steep  face  of  it  he  could  face  the  charge  of  the 
pack  to  better  advantage.  Breaking  into  a  long, 
unhurried  trot,  he  pressed  on,  swinging  the  axe 
from  side  to  side  in  swift,  menacing  sweeps,  and 
uttering  angry  expletives  which  the  wolves  seemed 
to  respect  as  much  as  they  did  the  gleaming 
weapon.  Before  he  gained  the  foot  of  the  rock, 
however,  the  beasts  had  grown  more  confident 
and  more  impatient,  making  little  sudden  leaps 
at  him,  from  one  side  or  the  other,  so  incessantly 
that  his  arm  had  not  a  moment's  rest;  and  he 
realized  that  the  crisis  of  the  adventure  could  not 
be  much  longer  delayed. 

When  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  rock  and  turned 
at  bay,  the  wolves  drew  back  once  more  and 
formed  a  half-circle  before  him,  a  moving, 
interweaving  half-circle  that  drew  closer  and 
grew  smaller  stealthily.  Suddenly  the  wolf  which 


©n  tbe  fligbt  Uratl  231 

seemed  the  leader  sprang  straight  in.  But  the 
woodsman  seemed  to  divine  the  move  even  before 
it  began,  so  sharply  did  he  meet  it  with  a  step 
forward  and  a  savage  axe-stroke;  and  the  wolf 
sprang  back  just  in  time  to  save  its  skull. 

And  now,  in  the  clutch  of  the  final  trial,  Logan 
had  an  inspiration.  With  all  the  doggedness  of 
the  backwoods  will  he  had  vowed  that  he  would 
not  give  up  the  rich  booty  on  his  back.  But  the 
question  had  at  last,  as  he  saw,  become  one  of 
giving  up  his  own  life.  In  this  crisis,  his  back- 
woods understanding  and  sympathy  suddenly 
went  out  toward  the  plucky  but  helpless  captive 
in  the  sack  on  his  back.  It  would  be  quite  too 
bad  that  the  splendid  lynx,  with  all  his  fighting 
equipment  of  fangs  and  claws,  should  be  torn  to 
pieces  in  his  bonds  without  a  chance  to  make  a 
fight  for  life.  Moreover,  as  he  realized  with  the 
next  thought,  here  was  perhaps  a  chance  to  create 
an  effective  diversion  in  his  own  favour. 

With  a  shout  and  a  mad  whirling  of  the  axe,  he 
once  more  drew  back  the  narrowing  crescent  of 
the  wolves.  The  next  instant  "he  swung  the  bag 
from  his  back,  ripped  open  the  mouth  of  it,  and 
emptied  out  the  writhing  roll  of  blanket  upon  the 
snow  at  his  feet,  —  while  the  wolves,  eying  this 


232       Ube  fjaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

new  procedure  with  suspicion,  held  back  a  few 
moments  before  again  closing  in.  As  the  bundle 
fell,  Logan  seized  one  corner  of  the  blanket,  and 
with  a  dexterous  twist  and  throw  unrolled  it, 
landing  the  prisoner  almost  under  the  noses  of 
the  wolves. 

Bewildered  for  an  instant,  the  lynx  had  no  time 
to  bound  back  and  scurry  up  the  steep  face  of  the 
rock  to  safety.  He  had  no  sooner  gained  his  feet 
than  the  whole  pack  was  upon  him.  With  a 
screech  of  fury  he  proclaimed  his  understanding 
of  the  crisis,  and  turned  every  tooth  and  claw 
into  the  fray.  His  fangs,  of  course,  were  no 
match  for  those  of  any  one  of  his  assailants;  but 
his  claws  were  weapons  of  such  quality  that  no 
single  wolf  could  have  withstood  him.  As  it  was, 
the  wolves  in  their  eagerness  got  in  one  another's 
way;  and  as  the  mass  of  them  smothered  the 
lynx  down,  more  than  one  got  eviscerating  slashes 
that  sent  them  yelping  out  of  battle. 

For  a  few  breathless  seconds  Logan  watched 
the  fight,  glowing  w7ith  excited  approval  over  his 
late  captive's  prowess.  Then  he  realized  the 
time  had  come  when  he  must  take  a  hand,  or  find 
himself  again  at  a  disadvantage.  Silently  he 
darted  upon  the  screeching,  growling  heap  with 


©n  tbe  IRigbt  Urail  233 

his  light  axe.  So  skilled  was  he  in  all  the 
woodsman's  sleights,  that  even  in  so  brief 
time  as  takes  to  tell  it,  three  more  of  the 
pack  were  down,  kicking  and  dying  silently 
on  the  snow.  The  leader  of  the  pack,  the 
side  of  his  neck  redly  furrowed  and  the  lust  of 
battle  hot  in  his  veins,  wheeled,  and  jumped 
madly  at  Logan's  throat.  But  the  woodsman 
met  him  with  a  terrific  short-handled  upward 
stroke,  which  fairly  split  his  ribs  and  hurled  him 
over  backwards.  On  the  instant  the  remaining 
wolves,  who  had  each  suffered  something  in  the 
me!6e,  concluded  that  the  game  was  up.  Leaping 
away  from  the  reach  of  those  deadly-ripping  claws, 
they  turned  and  ran  off  like  whipped  dogs. 

Bleeding  from  a  dozen  gashes,  bedraggled  and 
battered,  but  still  full  of  fight  to  every  outspread 
claw,  the  lynx  crouched  and  glared  at  the  man, 
with  ears  flattened  back  and  eyes  shooting  pallid 
flame.  For  some  seconds  the  two  faced  each 
other,  the  man  grinning  with  approval.  Then  it 
occurred  to  him  that  the  maddened  beast,  in 
despair  of  escape,  might  spring  at  him  and  compel 
him  to  strike,  which,  in  his  present  sympathetic 
and  grateful  mood,  he  was  most  unwilling  to  do. 
Cautiously,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  sinister 


234       ITbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

flaring  orbs  that  faced  him,  he  took  a  step  back- 
wards. Still  the  lynx  crouched,  ready  to  spring. 
Then  Logan  spoke,  in  quiet  expostulation. 

"  Don't  ye  go  for  to  fight  me,  now!  /  never 
done  ye  no  hurt! "  he  argued  mendaciously. 
"  It's  them  durn  wolves,  that  was  after  the  both 
of  us;  an'  it  was  me  got  ye  out  of  that  scrape. 
Don't  ye  come  loo  kin'  fer  trouble,  for  I  don't  want 
to  hurt  ye!  " 

At  the  sound  of  the  quiet  voice,  soothing  yet 
commanding,  the  tension  of  the  beast's  madness 
seemed  to  relax.  The  fixity  of  his  glare  wavered. 
Then  his  eyes  shifted;  and  the  next  moment, 
turning  with  a  movement  so  quick  that  the  woods- 
man's eyes  could  hardly  follow  it,  he  was  awray 
like  a  gray  shadow  among  the  stumps  and  trunks, 
not  leaping,  but  running  belly  to  ground  like  a 
cat.  Logan  watched  him  out  of  sight,  then 
nonchalantly  put  two  wounded  wolves  out  of 
their  misery,  whetted  his  knife  on  his  larrigans, 
and  settled  down  to  the  task  of  stripping  the  pelts. 


tbe  tribe  Came  ©v>er  tbe  nDarebes 

PERFECT  dome  of  palest  blue,  va- 
pourous  but  luminous.  To  northward 
and  southeastward  a  horizon  line  of 
low  uplands,  misty  purple.  Along  the  farthest 
west  a  glimmer  and  sparkle  of  the  sea.  Every- 
where else,  wide,  wind-washed  levels  of  marsh, 
pallid  green  or  ochre  yellow,  cut  here  and 
there  with  winding  tide-channels  and  mud-flats 
of  glistening  copper  red.  Twisting  this  way  and 
that  in  erratic  curves,  the  unbroken,  sodded  lines 
of  the  dyke,  fencing  off  the  red  flats  and  tide- 
channels,  and  dividing  the  green  expanses  of 
protected  dyke-marsh  from  the  ochre  yellow 
stretches  of  the  salt  marsh,  as  yet  but  half-re- 
claimed from  the  sea. 

At  this  autumn  season  the  hay  had  all  been  cut 
and  cured  and  most  of  it  hauled  away  to  safe 
storage  in  far-off,  upland  barns.     But  on  the  re- 
moter and  wetter  marshes  some  of  it  had  been 
235 


236       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

piled  in  huge  yellow-gray,  cone-peaked  stacks, 
to  await  the  easier  hauling  of  winter.  The  solitary, 
snug-built  stacks,  towering  above  the  dyke-tops 
and  whistled  over  ceaselessly  by  the  long  marsh 
winds,  were  a  favoured  resort  of  the  meadow-mice. 
These  adaptable  little  animals  were  able  to  endure 
with  equanimity  the  inevitable  annual  destruction 
of  their  homes  in  the  deep  grass,  seeing  that  the 
haymakers  were  so  thoughtful  as  to  afford  them 
much  dryer  and  more  secure  abodes  in  the  heart 
of  the  stacks,  where  neither  the  keen-nosed  fox 
nor  the  keen-eyed  marsh-owl  could  get  at  them. 

Past  the  foot  of  a  certain  lonely  stack  by  the 
outer  dyke,  within  sound  of  the  rushing  tide,  ran 
an  old  drainage  ditch,  at  this  time  of  year  almost 
dry.  Its  bottom,  where  tiny  puddles  were 
threaded  on  a  trickle  of  running  water,  was  now 
a  thronged  resort  of  water-loving  insects,  and 
small  frogs,  and  imprisoned  shiners.  To  a  wander- 
ing mink,  driven  down  by  drought  from  the  up- 
lands, it  was  a  wonderful  and  delightful  place, 
which  he  adopted  at  once  as  his  own  particular 
range.  The  main  ditch,  with  its  system  of  lateral 
feeders,  furnished  several  miles  of  runway,  and 
the  whole  of  this  rich  domain  the  newcomer 
preempted,  patrolling  it  methodically,  devoting 


'Cdben  tbe  Uibe  Came  237 

his  whole  attention  to  it,  and  ready  to  defend  it 
against  any  rival  claimant  who  might  appear. 

The  mink  was  a  male,  about  twenty  inches 
long,  with  his  rich  dark  coat  in  perfect  condition. 
His  pointed,  sinister,  quietly  savage  face  and 
head  were  set  on  a  long  but  heavy-muscled  neck, 
almost  as  thick  as  the  thickest  part  of  his  body. 
The  body  itself  was  altogether  snake-like  in  its 
lithe  sinuousness,  and  supported  on  legs  so  ridicu- 
lously short  that  when  he  was  not  leaping  he 
seemed  to  writhe  and  dart  along  on  his  belly 
after  the  fashion  of  a  snake.  In  spite  of  this 
shortness  of  the  legs,  however,  his  movements, 
when  he  had  any  reason  for  haste,  were  of  an 
almost  miraculous  swiftness,  his  whole  form 
seeming  to  be  made  up  of  subtle  and  tireless  steel 
springs.  When  he  did  not  care  to  writhe  and  dart 
along  like  a  snake,  he  would  arch  his  long  back 
like  a  measuring-worm  and  go  leaping  over  the 
ground  in  jumps  of  sometimes  four  or  five  feet  in 
length.  This  method  of  progression  he  probably 
adopted  for  the  fun  of  it,  in  the  main;  for  his 
hunting  tactics  were  usually  those  of  stealthy 
advance  and  lightning-like  attack.  Once  in  a 
long  while,  indeed,  by  lucky  chance  he  would 
succeed  in  catching  in  one  of  these  wild  leaps,  a 


238       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

snipe  which  flew  too  low  over  the  ditch  or  paused 
on  hovering  wing  before  alighting  to  forage  on 
the  populous  ooze.  Such  an  achievement  would 
afford  a  pleasant  variation  to  his  customary  diet 
of  fish,  frogs,  beetles,  and  occasional  muskrat. 

The  mink  had  been  nearly  three  weeks  on  his 
new  range,  and  enjoying  himself  hugely  in  his 
devastating  way,  before  he  observed  the  big 
yellow  stack  beside  the  ditch.  It  was  on  a  day  of 
driving  rain-squalls  and  premature  cold  that  he 
first  took  note  of  its  possibilities.  Gliding  furtively 
around  its  base,  his  bright,  fierce  eyes  detected 
a  tiny  hole,  the  imperfectly  hidden  entrance  to  a 
mouse-tunnel.  He  thrust  in  his  head  at  once  to 
investigate.  It  was  a  close  squeeze;  but  where 
his  head  and  neck  could  go  his  slender  body  could 
follow,  and  he  dearly  loved  the  exploring  of  just 
such  narrow  passages. 

A  little  way  in,  the  tunnel  branched;  but  the 
mink  made  no  mistake.  The  gallery  which  he 
selected  to  follow  ended  in  a  mouse-nest,  with  the 
mice  at  home.  There  in  the  dry,  warm,  sweet- 
scented  dark  there  was  a  brief  tragedy,  with  shrill 
squeaks  and  a  rustling  struggle.  Two  mice  escaped 
the  slaughter,  but  the  other  three  were  caught. 
The  invader  sucked  the  blood  of  all  three  while 


"A   SNIPE   WHICH   FLEW   TOO   LOW   OVER   THE   DITCH." 


tbe  Uifce  Came  239 

they  were  warm,  ate  one,  and  then  curled  himself 
up  for  nleep  in  his  new  a::d  delightful  quarters. 
This  stack  was  all  that  the  new  range  needed  to 
make  it  the  very  choicest  that  a  mink  could 
possess. 

After  this  the  mink  occupied  the  stack  in  bad 
weather,  but  ranged  the  ditches,  as  usual,  when 
it  waG  pleasant.  The  stack  was  full  of  mouse- 
galleries,  and  when  he  wanted  a  change  he  hunted 
mice.  But  it  was  the  outdoor,  wide-ranging  life 
that  best  contented  him,  so  the  mice  were  by  no 
mean:j  all  driven  out.  Being  a  happy-go-lucky 
tribe,  the  survivors  continued  to  occupy  their 
nests  in  spite  of  their  terrible  new  neighbour, 
trusting  that  doom  would  overlook  them. 

But  neither  men  nor  mice  nor  minks  can  be 
prepared  against  all  the  caprices  of  Nature.  That 
fall,  Nature  suddenly  took  it  into  her  head  to  try 
the  dykes,  of  which  the  men  had  for  a  generation 
or  more  been  so  boastful.  She  rolled  in  from  the 
sea  a  succession  of  tremendous  tides,  backing  them 
up  with  a  mighty  and  unrelenting  wind  out  of  the 
southwest,  and  piled  the  tide-channels  to  the  brim 
with  buffeting  floods.  For  a  time  the  dykes  with- 
stood the  assault  valiantly.  But  again  and  again, 
ever  fiercer  and  fiercer,  came  the  besieging  tides; 


240       TTbe  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 


and  finally  they  made  a  breach,  In  rushed  a  red 
and  foaming  torrent,  devouring  the  clay  walls  on 
either  side  with  a  roar,  and  drowning  the  long- 
protected  dyke-marsh  under  a  seething  chaos  of 
muddy  waves  and  debris. 

The  first  breach  occurred  at  daybreak;  and 
the  stack  stood  right  in  the  way.  The  huge  flood 
poured  in  in  angry  glory,  almost  blood-red  in  the 
first  gush  of  a  blazing  crimson  sunrise.  In  that 
unnatural  and  terrifying  light,  which  swiftly 
softened  to  a  mocking  delicacy  of  pink  and  lilac, 
the  stack  was  torn  from  its  foundations  and  borne 
revolving  up  the  tide. 

The  nest  of  the  mink',  being  low  in  the  stack, 
was  promptly  flooded,  driving  the  angry  tenant 
out.  He  ran  up  to  the  dry  top  of  the  stack,  and 
surveyed  the  wild  scene  with  surprise.  Water, 
of  course,  had  no  terrors  for  him;  but  this  tumul- 
tuous flood  seemed  a  good  thing  to  keep  out  of. 
He  would  stay  by  his  refuge  for  the  present,  at 
least.  Meanwhile,  there  were  mice  ! 

The  mice,  indeed,  panic-stricken  and  forced 
from  their  lower  nests,  were  fairly  swarming  in 
the  top  of  the  stack.  The  mink  first  satiated  his 
thirst  with  blood.  Next  he  glutted  his  hunger 
with  the  brains  of  his  victims,  Then,  seeing  thsir 


tbe  Uifce  Came  241 

numbers  apparently  undiminished,  he  got  wild 
with  excitement  and  blood-lust.  Darting  hither 
and  thither,  madly  joyous,  he  killed,  and  killed, 
and  killed,  for  the  joy  of  killing;  while  the  stack, 
with  its  freight  of  terror  and  death,  went  whirling 
majestically  along  the  now  broader  and  quister 
flood. 

How  long  the  slaughter  of  the  helpless  mice  would 
have  continued,  before  the  slaughterer  tired  of  the 
game  and  crept  into  a  nest  to  sleep,  cannot  be 
known.  By  another  of  Nature's  whims,  concerned 
equally  with  great  matters  and  with  little,  it  was 
not  left  to  the  joyous  mink  to  decide.  His  con- 
spicuous dark  body,  darting  over  the  light  surface 
of  the  stack,  caught  the  eye  of  a  great  hawk  soaring 
high  above  the  marshes.  Lower  and  lower  sank 
the  bird,  considering,  —  for  the  mink  was  larger 
game  than  he  usually  chose  to  hunt.  Then,  while 
still  too  high  in  the  blue  to  attract  attention  from 
the  busy  slayer,  he  narrowed  his  wings,  hardened 
his  plumage,  and  shot  downward.  At  a  strange 
sound  in  the  air  the  mink  looked  up,  —  but  not  in 
time  to  meet  that  appalling  attack.  One  great 
set  of  talons,  steel-strong  and  edged  like  knives, 
clutched  him  about  the  throat,  strangling  him  to 
helplessness,  while  another  set  crushed  his  ribs 


242       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  cut  into  his  vitals.  The  wise  hawk  had  struck 
with  a  thorough  comprehension  of  the  enemy's 
figiittng  powers;  and  had  taken  care  that  there 
should  be  no  fight.  Flying  heavily,  he  carried  the 
long,  limp  body  off  to  his  high  nest  in  the  hills; 
and  the  stack  drifted  on  with  the  tiny  terrified 
remnant  of  the  mouse-people,  till  the  ebbing  tide 
left  it  stranded  on  a  meadow  near  the  foot  of  the 
uplands. 


tbe  Uce^roof 


JLTERING  thinly  down  through  the 
roof  of  snow  and  clean  blue  ice,  the 
sharp  winter  sunshine  made  almost  a 
summer's  glow  upon  the  brown  bottom  of 
the  pond.  Beneath  the  ice  the  water  was 
almost  as  warm  now  as  in  summer,  the  pond 
being  fed  by  springs  from  so  deep  a  source  that 
their  temperature  hardly  varied  with  the  seasons. 
Here  and  there  a  bit  of  water-weed  stood  up  from 
the  bottom,  green  as  in  June.  But  in  the  upper 
world,  meanwhile,  the  wind  that  drove  over  the 
ice  and  snow  was  so  intensely  cold  that  the  hardy 
northern  trees  snapped  under  it,  and  few  of  the 
hardy  northern  creatures  of  the  wilderness,  though 
fierce  with  hunger,  had  the  fortitude  to  face  it. 
They  crouched  shivering  in  their  lairs,  under  fallen 
trunks  or  in  the  heart  of  dense  fir  thickets,  and 
waited  anxiously  for  the  rigour  of  cold  and  the 
243 


244       ftbe  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

savagery  of  wind  to  abate.  Only  down  in  the 
pond,  in  the  generous  spaces  of  amber  water 
beneath  the  ice-roof,  life  went  on  busily  and 
securely.  The  wind  might  rage  unbridled,  the 
cold  might  lay  its  hand  of  death  heavily  on  forest 
and  hill;  but  the  beavers  in  their  unseen  retreat 
knew  nothing  of  it.  All  it  could  do  was  to  add 
an  inch  or  two  of  thickness  to  the  icy  shelter 
above  them,  making  their  peaceful  security  more 
secure. 

The  pond  was  a  large  one,  several  acres  in  ex- 
tent, with  a  depth  of  fully  five  feet  in  the  deeper 
central  portions,  which  were  spacious  enough  to 
give  the  beavers  room  for  play  and  exercise; 
Around  the  shallow  edges  the  ice,  wrhich  was  fully 
fifteen  inches  thick  beneath  its  blanket  of  snow, 
lay  solid  on  the  bottom. 

The  beavers  of  this  pond  occupied  a  lodge  on 
the  edge  of  the  deep  water,  not  far  above  the  dam. 
This  lodge  was  a  broad-based,  low-domed  house 
of  mud,  turf,  and  sticks  cunningly  interwoven, 
and  rising  about  four  feet  above  the  surface  of  the 
ice-roof.  The  dome,  though  covered  deep  with 
snow,  was  conspicuous  to  every  prowler*  of  the 
woods,  who  would  come  at  times  to  sniff  greedily 
at  the  warm  smell  of  beaver  steaming  up  from  the 


tbe  1Fce*roof  245 

minute  air-vents  in  the  apex.  But  however 
greedy,  however  ravenous,  the  prowling  vagrants 
might  be,  the  little  dome -builders  and  dam- 
builders  within  neither  knew  nor  cared  about 
their  greed.  The  dome  was  fully  two  feet  thick, 
built  solidly,  and  frozen  almost  to  the  hardness 
of  granite.  There  were  no  claws  among  all  the 
ravening  forest  kindred  strong  enough  to  tear 
their  way  through  such  defences.  In  the  heart  of 
the  lodge,  in  a  dry  grass-lined  chamber  just  above 
high-water  level,  the  beavers  dwelt  warm  and  safe. 
But  it  was  not  from  the  scourge  of  the  northern 
cold  alone,  and  the  ferocity  of  their  enemies,  that 
the  beavers  were  protected  by  their  ice-roof  and 
their  frozen  dome.  The  winter's  famine,  too, 
they  had  well  guarded  themselves  against.  Before 
the  coming  of  the  frost,  they  had  gnawed  down 
great  quantities  of  birch,  poplar,  and  willow,  cut 
them  into  convenient,  manageable  lengths,  and 
dragged  them  to  a  spot  a  little  above  the  centre  of 
the  dam,  where  the  water  was  deepest.  Here  the 
store  of  logs,  poles,  and  brush  made  a  tangled 
mass  from  the  bottom  up  to  the  ice.  When  it 
was  feeding-time  in  the  hidden  chamber  of  the 
lodge,  a  beaver  would  swim  to  the  brush  pile,  pull 
out  a  suitable  stick,  and  drag  it  into  the  chamber. 


246         Ube  Ibauntcrs  of  tbe  Silences 

Here  the  family  would  feast  at  their  ease,  in  the 
dry,  pungent  gloom,  eating  the  bark  and  the  deli- 
cate outer  layer  of  young  wood.  When  the  stick 
was  stripped  clean,  another  beaver  would  drag 
it  out  and  tow  it  down  to  the  dam,  there  to  await 
its  final  use  as  material  for  repairs.  Every  member 
of  the  colony  was  blest  with  a  good  appetite,  and 
there  was  nearly  always  at  least  one  beaver  to  be 
seen  swimming  through  the  amber  gloom,  either 
with  a  green  stick  from  the  brush  pile,  or  a  white 
stripped  one  to  deposit  on  the  base  of  the  dam. 

For  these  most  diligent  of  all  the  four-foot 
kindreds  this  was  holiday  time.  Under  the  ice- 
roof  they  had  no  dam-building,  no  tree-cutting, 
no  house-repairing.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
eat,  sleep,  and  play.  There  was  not  much  variety 
to  their  play,  to  be  sure ;  but  the  monotony  of  it 
did  not  trouble  them.  Sometimes  two  would 
indulge  in  a  sort  of  mad  game  of  tag,  swimming 
at  marvellous  speed  close  beneath  the  ice,  their 
powerful  hind  legs  propelling  them,  their  tiny 
little  fore  paws  held  up  demurely  under  their  chins, 
and  their  broad,  flat,  hairless  tails  stretched 
straight  out  behind  to  act  as  rudders.  As  they 
swam  this  way  and  that,  they  loosed  a  trail  of 
silvery  bubbles  behind  them,  from  the  air  carried 


POULD    WHISK    SHARPLY   INTO    THE    MOUTH   OF    THE   BLACK 
TUNNEL." 


tbe  Uce^root  247 

under  their  close  fur.  At  last  one  of  the  players, 
unable  to  hold  his  breath  any  longer,  would  whisk 
sharply  into  the  mouth  of  the  black  tunnel  leading 
into  the  lodge,  scurry  up  into  the  chamber,  and  lie 
there  panting,  to  be  joined  a  moment  later  by  his 
equally  breathless  pursuer.  One  by  one  the  other 
members  of  the  colony  would  dip  in,  till  the  low 
chamber  was  full  of  furry,  snuggling  warmth  and 
well-fed  content.  Little  cared  the  beavers  whether 
it  was  night  or  day  in  the  wide,  frozen,  perilous 
world  above  the  ice-roof,  whether  the  sun  shone 
from  the  bitter  blue,  or  the  wolf-haunted  moon- 
light lay  upon  the  snow,  or  the  madness  of  the 
blizzard  made  the  woods  cower  before  its  fury. 

As  long  as  the  cold  endured  and  the  snow  lay 
deep  upon  the  wilderness,  the  beavers  lived  their 
happy,  uneventful  life  beneath  the  ice-roof.  But 
in  this  particular  winter  the  untempered  cold  of 
December  and  January,  which  slew  many  of  the 
wood  folk  and  drove  the  others  wild  with  hunger, 
broke  suddenly  in  an  unprecedented  thaw.  Not 
the  oldest  bear  of  the  Bald  Mountain  caves  could 
remember  any  such  thaw.  First  there  were  days 
on  days,  and  nights  on  nights,  of  bland,  melting 
rain,  softer  than  April's.  The  snow  vanished 
swiftly  from  the  laden  branches  of  fir  and  spruce 


248       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  hemlock,  and  the  silent  woods  stood  up  black 
and  terrible  against  the  weeping  sky.  On  the 
ground  and  on  the  ice  of  pond  and  stream  the 
snow  shrank,  settled,  and  assumed  a  grayish  com- 
plexion. Water,  presently,  gathered  in  great 
spreading,  leaden-coloured  pools  on  the  ice;  and 
on  the  naked  knolls  the  bare  moss  and  petty  shrubs 
began  to  emerge.  Every  narrow  watercourse 
soon  carried  two  streams,  —  the  temperate,  fet- 
tered, summer-mindful  stream  below  the  ice,  and 
the  swollen,  turbulent  flood  above.  Then  the 
rain  stopped.  The  sun  came  out  warm  and  urgent 
as  in  latter  May.  And  snow  and  ice  together 
dwindled  under  the  unnatural  caress. 

The  beavers,  in  their  safe  seclusion,  had  knowl- 
edge in  two  ways  of  this  strange  visitation  upon 
the  wrorld.  l^Jot  all  the  soft  flood  of  the  melting 
snow  ran  over  the  surface  of  their  ice,  but  a  portion 
got  beneath  it,  by  way  of  the  upper  brooks.  This 
extra  flow  disturbed  both  the  colour  and  the  tem- 
perature of  the  clear  amber  water  of  the  pond. 
It  lifted  heavily  against  the  ice,  pressed  up  the 
tunnels  to  the  very  edge  of  the  dry  chamber  of  the 
lodge,  and  thrust  ponderously  at  the  outlets  of  the 
dam.  Understanding  the  peril,  the  wise  little 
dam-builders  sallied  forth  in  a  flurry,  and  with 


tbe  1Fce*roof  249 

skilful  tooth  and  claw  lost  no  time  in  enlarging 
the  outlets.  They  were  much  too  intelligent  to 
let  the  flood  escape  by  a  single  outlet,  lest  the  con- 
centrated flow  should  become  too  heavy  for  them 
to  control  it.  They  knew  the  spirit  of  that  ancient 
maxim  of  tyrants,  "  divide  et  impera."  By  divid- 
ing the  overflow  into  many  feeble  streams  they 
knew  how  to  rule  it.  This  done,  they  rested  in  no 
great  anxiety,  expecting  the  thaw  to  end  with  a 
stringent  frost. 

Then,  however,  came  the  second,  and  more  sig- 
nificant, manifestation  of  peril.  The  snow  on  the 
ice-roof  had  vanished;  and  looking  up  through 
the  ice  they  saw  the  flood  eddying  riotously  over 
the  naked  expanse.  It  was  a  portent  which  the 
wiser  elders  understood.  The  whole  colony  fell 
to  work  strengthening  the  dam  where  the  weight 
of  the  current  bore  down  upon  it,  and  increasing 
the  outlet  along  the  farther  edges. 

A  thaw  so  persistent,  however,  and  at  the  same 
time  so  violent,  overpassed  their  cunning  calcula- 
tions. One  night,  when  all  had  done  their  best 
and,  weary,  but  reassured,  had  withdrawn  into  the 
warm  chamber  of  the  lodge,  something  happened 
that  they  had  never  looked  for.  In  their  snug 
retreat  they  were  falling  to  sleep,  the  rush  of  the 


250      'TTbe  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

overflow  and  the  high  clamour  of  the  side  vents 
coming  dimly  to  their  ears,  when  suddenly  they 
were  startled  by  the  water  being  forced  up  over 
the  dry  floor  of  the  chamber.  The  pressure  of 
water  beneath  the  ice  had  suddenly  increased. 
They  were  more  than  startled.  They  were  badly 
frightened.  If  the  water  should  rise  much  higher 
they  would  be  drowned  helplessly,  for  the  ice  lay 
close  all  over  the  pond.  The  younger  ones  scur- 
ried this  way  and  that  with  plaintive  squeaks,  and 
several  dashed  forth  into  the  pond  in  a  panic,  for- 
getting that  there  was  no  escape  in  that  direction. 
A  moment  later  a  low  crashing  penetrated  to  the 
dark  chamber;  and  the  invading  water  retreated 
down  the  tunnel.  The  ice-roof,  worn  thin,  honey- 
combed, and  upheaved  by  the  pressure  from  below, 
had  gone  to  pieces. 

It  was  the  older  and  wiser  beavers  who  had  re- 
mained in  the  chamber,  terrified,  but  not  panic- 
stricken.  When  the  water  retreated  to  its  norm; 
level,  —  about  two  inches  below  the  chamber 
floor,  —  they  were  satisfied.  Then,  however,  a 
louder  and  heavier  note  in  the  rush  of  the  overflow 
came  to  their  ears,  and  their  anxiety  returned 
with  fresh  force.  Thrusting  their  whiskered  noses 
inquiringly  down  the  tunnel,  they  observed  that 


tbe  lfce*roof  251 

the  water  was  sinking  far  below  its  proper  level. 
Well  they  knew  what  that  meant.  The  dam  was 
broken.  The  water,  which  was  their  one  protec- 
tion from  the  terrors  of  the  forest,  was  escaping. 

This  was  the  kind  of  an  emergency  which  a 
beaver  will  always  rise  to.  Shy  as  they  are,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  when  the  dam  is  attacked 
their  courage  is  unfailing.  In  a  moment  every 
beaver  in  the  colony  was  out  among  the  swirling 
ice,  under  the  broad,  white  moonlight  which  they 
had  not  seen  for  so  long. 

It  was  at  its  very  centre,  where  the  channel  was 
deepest  and  the  thrust  of  the  water  most  violent, 
that  the  dam  had  given  way.  The  break  was 
about  ten  feet  wide,  and  not,  as  yet,  of  any  great 
depth.  It  was  the  comparatively  narrow  and  un- 
substantial crust  of  the  embankment  which  had 
yielded,  disintegrated  by  the  thaw  and  ripped  by 
the  broken  edges  of  the  ice. 

The  vehemence  of  the  torrent  was  rapidly  cut- 
ting down  into  the  firmer  body  of  the  dam,  when 
the  beavers  flung  themselves  valiantly  into  the 
breach.  In  the  face  of  the  common  danger  they 
forgot  all  caution,  and  gave  no  heed  to  any  hungry 
eyes  that  might  be  glaring  at  them  from  the  woods 
on  either  shore.  Without  any  apparent  leader- 


252       Ube  Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

ship  in  the  work,  they  all  seemed  to  help  each 
other  in  whatever  way  would  be  most  effective. 
Some  dragged  up  the  longest  and  heaviest  poles 
from  the  pile  of  stripped  stuff,  floated  them  care- 
fully into  the  break,  butt  end  up-stream  and  par- 
allel with  the  flow,  and  held  them  there  doggedly 
with  their  teeth  and  fore  paws  till  others  could 
come  with  more  timbers  to  hold  the  first  lot  down. 
Meanwhile,  from  the  soft  bottom  along  the  base  of 
the  dam,  big  lumps  of  mingled  clay  and  grass- 
roots, together  with  small  stones  to  add  weight, 
were  grabbed  up  and  heaped  solidly  upon  the 
layers  of  sticks  for  anchorage.  This  loose  stuff, 
though  deposited  along  the  upper  ends  of  the 
sticks  where  the  flow  was  least  violent,  and  swiftly 
packed  down  into  the  interstices,  was  mostly 
washed  away  in  the  process.  It  was  seemingly  an 
even  struggle,  for  a  time,  and  the  beavers  could  do 
no  more  than  hold  the  breach  from  deepening  and 
widening.  But  they  were  quite  undaunted;  and 
they  seemed  to  know  no  such  thing  as  fatigue. 
Little  by  little  they  gained  upon  the  torrent,  mak- 
ing good  the  hold  of  a  mass  of  turf  here,  a  few 
stones  there,  and  everywhere  the  long  straight 
sticks  upon  which  the  water  could  get  but  slight 
grip.  The  flood  grew  shallower  and  less  destruc- 


tbe  Uce^roof  253 

tive.  More  sticks  were  brought,  more  stones,  and 
clay,  and  grass-roots;  and  then  a  layer  of  heavy, 
clean  poles,  over  which  the  water  slid  thinly  and 
smoothly  without  danger  to  the  structure  beneath. 
The  dam  was  now  strongest  at  this  point,  its 
crest  being  broader  and  formed  of  heavier  timbers 
than  elsewhere.  But  no  sooner  had  the  hard- won 
victory  been  secured,  and  the  plucky  little  archi- 
tects paused  for  breath,  than  there  came  an 
ominous  crackling  from  far  over  to  the  extreme 
left  of  the  dam,  where  a  subsidiary  channel  had 
offered  a  new  vantage  to  the  baffled  torrent.  The 
crackling  was  mingled  with  a  loud  rushing  noise. 
Another  section  of  the  crest  of  the  dam  had  been 
swept  away.  A  white  curtain  of  foam  sprang  into 
the  moonlight,  against  the  darkness  of  the  trees. 


ii 

While  the  brave  little  dam-builders  had  been 
battling  with  the  flood,  out  there  in  the  wide- 
washing  moonlight,  hungry  eyes  had  been  watch- 
ing them  from  the  heart  of  a  dense  spruce  thicket, 
a  little  below  the  left  end  of  the  dam.  The 
watching  had  been  hopeless  enough,  as  the  owner 
of  those  fierce,  narrow  eyes  knew  it  was  no  use 


254       'Ebe  "baunters  of  tbe  Silences 

trying  to  surprise  a  beaver  in  the  open,  when  the 
whole  pond  was  right  there  for  him  to  dive  into. 
But  now  when  the  new  break  brought  the  whole 
colony  swimming  madly  to  the  left-hand  shore, 
and  close  to  the  darkness  of  the  woods,  those 
watching  eyes  glowed  with  a  savage  expectancy, 
and  began  slowly,  noiselessly,  steadily,  floating 
nearer  through  the  undisturbed  underbrush. 

The  tremendous  thaw,  loosing  the  springs  and 
streams  on  the  high  flanks  of  Bald  Mountain,  had 
washed  out  the  snow  from  the  mouth  of  a  shallow 
cave  and  rudely  aroused  a  young  bear  from  his 
winter  sleep.  As  soon  as  he  had  shaken  off  his 
heaviness  the  bear  found  himself  hungry.  But 
his  hunting  thus  far  had  not  been  successful.  His 
training  had  not  been  in  the  winter  woods.  He 
hardly  knew  what  to  look  for,  and  the  soft  slump- 
ing snow  hampered  him.  One  panic-stricken 
white  rabbit,  and  a  few  ants  from  a  rotten  stump, 
were  all  that  he  had  found  to  eat  in  three  days. 
His  white  fangs  in  his  red  jaws  had  slavered  with 
craving  as  he  watched  the  plump  beavers  at  their 
work,  far  out  on  the  brightly  moonlit  dam. 
When,  at  last,  they  came  hurrying  toward  him, 
and  fell  to  work  on  the  new  break  within  thirty  or 
forty  yards  of  his  hiding-place,  he  could  hardly 


Tdn&er  tbe  Uce^root  255 

contain  himself.  He  did  contain  himself,  how- 
ever; for  he  had  hunted  beaver  before,  and  not 
with  a  success  to  make  him  overconfident.  Right 
by  the  termination  of  the  dam,  where  the  beavers 
were  working,  the  woods  came  down  thick  and 
dark  to  within  eight  or  ten  feet  of  the  water. 
Toward  this  point  he  made  his  way  patiently, 
and  with  such  control  of  every  muscle  that,  for  all 
his  apparent  clumsiness,  not  a  twig  snapped,  not 
a  branch  rustled,  any  more  than  if  a  shadow  were 
gliding  through  them.  He  saw  one  old  beaver 
sitting  stiffly  erect  on  the  crest  of  the  dam,  a  wary 
sentinel,  sniffing  the  still  air  and  scanning  the 
perilous  woods;  but  he  planned  to  make  his  final 
rush  so  swift  that  the  sentinel  would  have  no  time 
to  give  warning. 

But  the  fierce  little  eyes  of  the  bear,  dark  and 
glinting  red,  were  not  the  only  ones  that  watched 
the  beavers  at  their  valorous  toil.  In  the  juniper 
scrub,  a  short  distance  up  the  bank  of  the  pond, 
crouched  two  big  gray  lynxes,  glaring  down  upon 
the  scene  with  wide,  round,  pale  greenish  eyes, 
unspeakably  sinister.  The  lynxes  were  gaunt 
with  famine.  Fired  with  the  savage  hope  that 
some  chance  might  bring  a  beaver  within  reach  of 
their  mighty  spring,  they  had  crept  down,  on  their 


256       Ube  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

great,  furred,  stealthy  pads,  to  the  patch  of  juniper 
scrub.  Here  they  had  halted,  biding  their  time 
with  that  long,  painful  patience  which  is  the  price 
of  feeding  —  the  price  of  life  —  among  the  winter- 
scourged  kindreds.  Now,  when  the  beavers  had 
so  considerately  come  over  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  and  appeared  to  be  engrossed  in  some  in- 
comprehensible pulling  and  splashing  and  mud- 
piling,  the  two  lynxes  felt  that  their  opportunity 
had  arrived.  Their  bellies  close  to  the  snow,  their 
broad ,  soft-padded  feet  stepping  lightly  as  the  fall 
of  feathers,  their  light  gray  fur  all  but  invisible 
among  the  confused  moon-shadows,  their  round, 
bright  eyes  unwinking,  they  seemed  almost  to 
drift  down  through  the  thickets  toward  their 
expected  prey. 

Neither  the  bear  creeping  up  from  below  the 
dam,  nor  the  two  lynxes  stealing  down  from  above 
it,  had  eyes  or  thought  for  anything  in  the  world 
but  the  desperately  toiling  beavers.  Their  hunger 
was  gnawing  at  their  lean  stomachs,  the  fever  of 
the  hunt  was  in  their  veins,  and  the  kill  was  all  but 
within  reach.  A  few  moments  more,  and  the  rush 
would  come,  up  from  the  fir  thickets  —  the  long, 
terrible  spring  and  pounce,  down  from  the  juniper 
scrub. 


tbe  Uce^root  257 

The  work  of  repairing  the  breach  was  making 
good  progress.  Already  the  roaring  overflow  was 
coming  into  subjection,  its  loud  voice  dwindling 
to  a  shallow  clamour.  Then,  something  hap- 
pened. Perhaps  the  wary  sentinel  on  the  crest  of 
the  dam  detected  a  darker  shade  stirring  among 
the  firs,  or  a  lighter  grayness  moving  inexplicably 
between  the  bushes  up  the  bank.  Perhaps  his 
quick  nostrils  caught  a  scent  that  meant  danger. 
Perhaps  the  warning  came  to  him  mysteriously, 
flashed  upon  that  inner  sense,  sometimes  alert  and 
sometimes  densely  slumbering,  which  the  forest 
furtiveness  seems  to  develop  in  its  creatures. 
However,  it  came,  it  came.  Dropping  forward  as 
if  shot,  the  sentinel  beaver  brought  his  flat  tail 
down  upon  the  surface  ct  the  water  with  a  smack 
that  rang  all  up  and  around  the  borders  of  the 
pond,  startling  the  quiet  cf  the  night.  In  a  frac- 
tion of  a  cecond  every  beaver  had  vanished 
beneath  the  shining  surface. 

At  the  same  moment,  or  an  eye-wink  later,  a 
strange  thing  happened  —  one  of  those  violent 
surprises  with  which  the  vast  repression  of  the 
fcrest  sometimes  betrays  itself.  Maddened  to  see 
his  prey  escaping,  the  bear  made  his  rush,  launch- 
ing himself,  a  black  and  uncouth  mas.5,  right  down 


258        Ube  f>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

to  the  water's  edge.  Simultaneously  the  two 
lynxes  shot  into  the  air  from  higher  up  the  bank, 
frantic  with  disappointed  hunger.  With  a  screech 
of  fury,  and  a  harsh  spitting  and  snarling,  they 
landed  a  few  feet  distant  from  the  bear,  and 
crouched  flat,  their  stub  tails  twitching,  their  eyes 
staring,  their  tufted  ears  laid  back  upon  their 
skulls. 

Like  a  flash  the  bear  wheeled,  confronting  the 
two  great  cats  with  uplifted  paw  and  mouth  wide 
open.  Half -sitting  back  upon  his  haunches,  he 
was  ready  for  attack  or  defence.  His  little  eyes 
glowed  red  with  rage.  To  him  it  was  clearly  the 
lynxes  who  had  frightened  off  the  beavers  and 
spoiled  his  hunting;  and  interference  of  this  kind 
is  what  the  wild  kindreds  will  not  tolerate.  To 
the  lynxes,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  obvious  that 
the  bear  had  caused  the  whole  trouble.  He  was 
the  clumsy  interloper  who  had  come  between 
them  and  their  quarry.  They  were  on  the  verge 
of  that  blindness  of  fury  which  might  hurl  them, 
at  any  instant,  tooth  and  claw,  upon  their  for- 
midable foe.  For  the  moment,  however,  they 
had  not  quite  Icjt  sight  of  prudence.  The  bear 
was  master  of  the  forest,  and  they  knew  that  even 
together  they  two  were  hardly  a  match  for  him. 


"CONFRONTING    THE    TWO    GREAT    CATS    WITH    UPLIFTED   PAW    AND 
MOUTH    WIDE   OPEN." 


"Cinder  tbe  Hce*roof  259 

The  bear,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not  quite  sure 
that  he  was  willing  to  pay  the  price  of  vengeance. 
His  blood  surging  in  the  swollen  veins,  he  growled 
with  heavy  menace,  and  rocking  forward  upon 
his  haunches  he  seemed  on  the  point  of  rushing  in. 
But  he  knew  how  those  powerful  knife-edged 
claws  of  the  lynxes  could  rend.  He  knew  that 
their  light  bodies  were  strong  and  swift  and 
elusive,  their  teeth  almost  as  punishing  a^s  his  own. 
He  felt  himself  the  master;  nevertheless  he  real- 
ized that  it  would  cost  dear  to  enforce  that  mas- 
tery. He  hesitated.  Had  he  made  the  slightest 
forward  move,  the  lynxes  would  have  thrown 
caution  to  the  winds,  and  sprung  upon  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  had  the  lynxes  even  tightened  up 
their  sinews  to  spring,  he  would  have  hurled  him- 
self with  a  roar  into  the  battle.  But  as  it  was, 
both  sides  held  themselves  in  leash,  tense,  ready, 
terrible  in  restraint,  And  as  the  moments  dragged 
by,  out  on  the  bright  surface  of  the  pond  small 
heads  appeared,  with  little  bright  eyes  watching 
curiously. 

For  perhaps  three  or  four  long,  intense  minutes 
there  was  not  a  move  made.  Then  the  round  eyes 
of  the  lynxes  shifted  ever  so  little,  while  the  bear's 
eyes  never  faltered.  The  bear's  was  the  steadier 


260       ftbe  t>aunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

purpose,  the  more  tenacious  and  resolute  temper. 
Almost  imperceptibly  the  lynxes  shrank  back- 
ward, gliding  inch  by  inch.  A  swift  side-glance 
showed  them  that  the  way  of  retreat  was  open. 
Then,  as  if  both  were  propelled  by  the  one 
vehement  impulse,  they  bounded  into  the  air,  one 
whirling  aside  and  the  other  almost  doubling  back 
upon  his  own  trail.  Quicker  than  it  takes  to  tell 
it,  they  w,ere  fleeing  like  gray  shadows,  one  over 
the  bank  and  through  the  juniper  bushes,  the 
other  up  along  the  snowy  shore  of  the  pond,  their 
discomfiture  apparently  driving  them  to  part 
company.  The  bear,  as  if  surprised,  sat  up  on  his 
haunches  to  stare  after  them.  Then,  with  a  hun- 
gry look  at  the  beavers,  now  swimming  openly  far 
out  in  the  moonlight,  he  turned  and  shambled  off 
to  find  some  more  profitable  hunting. 

For  a  few  minutes  all  was  stillness,  save  for  the 
rushing  of  the  water  over  the  dam.  The  solitude 
of  the  night  had  resumed  its  white  and  tranquil 
dominion  as  if  nothing  had  ever  occurred  to  jar  its 
peace.  Then  once  more  the  watchful  sentinel 
appeared,  sitting  erect  on  the  dam,  and  the  dili- 
gent builders  busied  themselves  to  complete  the 
mending  of  the  breach. 


terror  of  tbe  Hir 


'ROM  all  the  lonely  salt-flats  and  tide- 
washed,  reedy  shores  of  the  wide  estuary, 
the  flocks  of  the  sea-ducks  had  flown 
south.  After  feeding  for  days  together  amicably, 
golden-eyed  and  red-head,  broad-bill  and  dipper, 
all  hobnobbing  and  bobbing  and  guttering  in  com- 
pany, without  regard  to  difference  of  kin,  they 
had  at  last  assorted  themselves  into  flocks  of 
the  like  species  and  wing  power,  and  gone  off  in 
strong-flying  wedges  to  seek  milder  tides  and 
softer  skies. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  marshy  levels  were 
now  stiffened  with  frost,  and  ice  fringes  lingered 
thin  and  brittle  behind  each  retreating  tide,  and 
white  flurries  of  snow  went  drifting  over  the  vast, 
windy  spaces  of  wave  and  plain,  some  bold,  persist- 
ent waifs  of  life  clung  to  these  bleak  solitudes. 
Here  and  there  a  straggler  from  the  flocks,  or  a 
belated  arrival  from  farther  north,  fed  solitary 
261 


262         Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  seemed  sufficient  to  himself;  while  here  and 
there  a  few  hardy  coots,  revelling  in  the  loneliness 
and  in  the  forbidding  harshness  of  the  season, 
swam  and  dived  among  the  low,  leaden-coloured 
waves. 

Across  ten  level  miles  of  naked  marsh-land 
another  estuary  made  in  from  the  sea.  On  the 
shore  of  this  estuary,  so  shallow  that  for  leagues 
along  its  edge  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish, 
at  high  tide,  just  where  the  water  ended  and  the 
solid  land  began,  a  solitary  surf-duck  dabbled 
among  the  gray,  half-frozen  grasses.  Of  a  dull 
black  all  over,  save  for  a  patch  of  clear  white  on 
his  head  and  another  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  he 
made  a  sharp,  conspicuous  spot  against  the  pallid 
colouring  of  the  marshes.  For  all  his  loneliness, 
he  seemed  to  be  enjoying  himself  very  well,  active 
and  engrossed,  and  to  all  appearances  forgetful 
of  the  departed  flocks. 

Suddenly,  however,  he  stopped  feeding,  and 
sat  with  head  erect  and  watchful  eyes,  rising  and 
falling  gently  with  the  pulse  of  the  sedge-choked 
flood.  Either  some  unusual  sight  or  sound  had 
disturbed  him,  or  some  drift  of  memory  had 
stirred  his  restlessness.  For  several  minutes  he 
floated,  forgetful  of  the  savoury  shelled  and  squirm- 


terror  of  tbe  Hit  263 

ing  creatures  which  his  discriminating  bill  had 
been  gathering  from  among  the  oozy  sedge-roots. 
Then  with  an  abrupt  squawk,  he  flapped  noisily 
along  the  surface  of  the  water,  rose  into  the  air, 
and  flew  straight  inland,  mounting  as  he  went  to 
a  height  far  above  gunshot. 

The  flight  of  the  lonely  drake  was  toward  the 
shores  of  the  other  estuary,  ten  miles  southward, 
where  in  all  likelihood  he  had  some  hope  of  finding 
the  companionship  of  his  kin,  if  not  a  better 
feeding-ground.  Though  his  body  was  very  heavy 
and  massive  and  his  wings  ridiculously  short  for 
the  bulk  they  had  to  sustain,  he  flew  with  tremen- 
dous speed  and  as  straight  as  a  bullet  from  a  rifle. 
His  wings,  however  small,  were  mightily  muscled 
and  as  tough  as  steel  springs,  and  they  beat  the 
air  with  such  lightning  strokes  that  the  sturdy 
body,  head  and  neck  and  legs  and  feet  outstretched 
in  a  rigid  line,  was  hurled  through  the  air  at  a  speed 
of  something  like  a  hundred  miles  an  hour.  As 
he  flew,  the  flurries  of  snow  gathered  into  a  squall 
of  whirling  flakes,  almost  obscuring  the  waste  of 
marsh-land  that  rushed  past  beneath  his  flight, 
and  shutting  him  off  alone  in  the  upper  heights  of 
sky. 

Alone  indeed  he  imagined  himself,  while  the 


264       Ube  "fcaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

cold  air  and  the  streaming  snowflakes  whistled  past 
his  flight.  But  keen  as  were  his  eyes,  other  eyes 
keener  than  his  had  marked  him  from  a  loftier 
height,  where  the  air  was  clear  above  the  storm 
strata.  A  great  Arctic  goshawk,  driven  by  some 
unknown  whim  to  follow  the  edge  of  winter  south- 
ward, was  sailing  on  wide  wings  through  the  high, 
familiar  cold.  When  he  saw  the  black  drake  far 
below  him,  shooting  through  the  snowflakes  like 
a  missile,  his  fierce  eyes  flamed  and  narrowed, 
his  wings  gave  one  mighty  beat  and  then  half- 
closed,  and  he  dropped  into  the  cloudy  murk  of 
the  storm  belt. 

The  drake  was  now  about  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  the  great  hawk,  and  flying  at  perhaps 
ninety  miles  an  hour  under  the  mere  impulse  of 
his  desire  to  reach  the  qther  estuary.  When  he 
caught  sight  of  the  white  terror  pursuing  him,  his 
sturdy  little  wings  doubled  the  rapidity  of  their 
stroke,  till  he  shot  forward  at  a  rate  of,  perhaps, 
two  miles  a  minute,  his  wedge-shaped  body  and 
hard,  oiled  plumage  offering  small  resistance  to 
the  air  even  at  that  enormous  speed.  His  only 
chance  of  escape,  as  he  well  knew,  was  to  reach 
the  water  and  plunge  beneath  it.  But  he  could 
not  turn  back,  for  the  terror  was  behind  him. 


Ube  ZTerror  of  tbe  Bir  265 

Straight  ahead  lay  his  only  hope.  There,  not 
more  than  two  or  three  minutes  distant,  lay  his 
secure  refuge.  He  could  see  the  leaden  gray  ex- 
panse, touched  by  a  gleam  of  cold  and  lonely  sun- 
light which  had  pierced  the  obscurity  of  the  squall. 
Could  he  reach  it?  If  he  could,  he  would  drop 
into  the  slow  wave,  dive  to  the  bottom,  and  hold 
to  the  roots  of  the  swaying  weeds  till  the  terror 
had  gone  by. 

A  hundred  yards  behind  came  the  hawk,  moving 
like  a  dreadful  ghost  through  the  swirl  and  glimmer 
of  the  snow.  His  plumage  was  white,  but  pencilled 
with  shadowy  markings  of  pale  brown.  His 
narrowed  eyes,  fixed  upon  the  fugitive,  were 
fiercely  bright  and  hard  like  glass.  His  hooked 
beak,  his  flat  head,  his  strong,  thick,  smoothly 
modelled  neck,  were  outstretched  in  a  rigid  line 
like  those  of  the  drake. 

The  long,  spectral  wings  of  the  great  hawk 
beat  the  air,  but  not  with  haste  and  violence  like 
those  of  the  fleeing  quarry.  Swift  as  his  wing- 
beats  were,  there  was  a  surging  movement  about 
them,  an  irresistible  thrust,  which  made  them 
seem  slow  and  gave  their  working  an  air  of  absolute 
ease.  For  all  this  ease,  however,  he  was  flying 
faster  than  the  fugitive.  Slowly,  yard  by  yard, 


266       Ube  tmunrers  ot  tbe  Silences 

he  crept  up,  the  distance  from  his  victim  grew 
narrower.  The  drake's  wings  whistled  upon  the 
wind,  a  strange  shrill  note,  as  of  terror  and  despair. 
But  the  wings  of  the  pursuing  destroyer  were  as 
noiseless  as  sleep.  He  seemed  less  a  bird  than  a 
spirit  of  doom,  the  embodiment  of  the  implacable 
Arctic  cold. 

The  astounding  speed  at  which  the  two  wTere 
rushing  through  the  sky  on  this  race  of  life  and 
death  brought  the  gleam  of  the  estuary  water 
hurrying  up  from  the  horizon  to  meet  them.  The 
terrible  seconds  passed.  The  water  was  not  half 
a  mile  ahead.  The  line  of  the  drake's  flight  began 
to  slope  toward  earth.  'A  few  moments  more, 
and  a  sudden  splash  in  the  tide  would  proclaim 
that  the  fugitive  was  safe  in  a  refuge  where  the 
destroyer  could  not  follow.  But  the  noiseless 
wings  were  now  just  behind  him,  just  behind 
and  above. 

At  this  moment  the  fugitive  opened  his  beak 
for  one  despairing  squawk,  his  acknowledgment 
that  the  game  of  life  was  lost.  The  next  instant 
the  hawk's  white  body  seemed  to  leap  forward 
even  out  of  the  marvellous  velocity  with  which  it 
was  already  travelling.  It  leaped  forward,  and 
changed  shape,  spreading,  and  hanging  imminent 


"  THE   NOISELESS   WINGS    WERE   NOW   JUST    BEHIND    HIM 


Ube  terror  ot  tbe  Sir  267 

for  the  least  fraction  of  a  second.  The  head,  with 
slightly  open  beak,  reached  down.  A  pair  of  great 
black  talons,  edged  like  knives,  open  and  clutch- 
ing, reached  down  and  forward. 

The  movement  did  not  seem  swift,  yet  it  easily 
caught  the  drake  in  the  midst  of  his  flight.  For 
an  instant  there  was  a  slight  confusion  of  winnow- 
ing and  flapping  wings,  a  dizzy  dropping  through 
the  sky.  Then  the  great  hawk  recovered  his 
balance,  steadied  himself,  turned,  and  went  wing- 
ing steadily  inland  toward  a  crag  which  he  had 
noted,  where  he  might  devour  his  prey  at  ease. 
In  his  claws  was  gripped  the  body  of  the  black 
drake,  its  throat  torn  across,  its  long  neck  and 
webbed  feet  trailing  limply  in  the  air. 


1fn  tbe  ^Unknown 


S  long,  awkward  legs  trembling  with 
excitement,  his  long  ears  pointing  stiffly 
forward,  his  distended  nostrils  sniffing 
and  snorting,  he  stared  anxiously  this  way  and 
that  from  the  swirling,  treacherous  current  to  the 
silent  man  poling  the  scow.  The  river,  at  this 
point  nearly  half  a  mile  wade,  daunted  him  now 
that  he  saw  it  at  such  close  quarters,  though  all 
summer  he  had  been  viewing  it  with  equanimity 
from  the  shore.  A  few  hundred  yards  above  the 
comparatively  quiet  course  of  the  ferry  he  saw  a 
long  line  of  white  leaping  waves,  stretching  from 
bank  to  bank  with  menacing  roar,  and  seeming  as 
it  were  about  to  rush  down  upon  the  slow  ferry 
and  overwhelm  it.  When  he  looked  toward  the 
other  side  of  the  scow  the  prospect  wras  equally 
threatening.  The  roar  from  below  was  worse 
than  the  roar  from  above,  and  the  whole  river, 
just  here  so  radiant  with  the  sunset  glow,  grew 
268 


fln  tbe  "Glnfenown  2>arfc  269 

black  with  gloom  and  white  with  fury  as  it  plunged 
through  a  rocky  chasm  strewn  with  ledges.  The 
only  thing  that  comforted  him  at  all  and  kept  his 
fears  within  bounds  was  the  patient,  sturdy  figure 
of  the  man,  poling  the  scow  steadily  toward  shore. 

This  nervous  passenger  on  the  primitive  back- 
woods ferry  was  a  colt  about  eight  months  old, 
whose  mother  had  died  the  previous  day.  His 
owner,  a  busy  lumberman,  was  now  sending  him 
across  the  river  to  a  neighbour's  farm  to  be  cared 
for,  because  he  was  of  good  "  Morgan  "  strain. 
The  ferryman  had  taken  the  precaution  to  hitch 
the  end  of  his  halter-rope  to  a  thwart  amidships, 
lest  he  should  get  wild  and  jump  overboard ;  but 
the  colt,  though  his  dark  brown  coat  was  still 
woolly  with  the  roughness  of  babyhood,  had  too 
much  breadth  between  the  eyes  to  be  guilty  of  any 
such  foolishness.  He  felt  frightened,  and  strange, 
and  very  lonely;  but  he  knew  it  was  his  business 
just  to  trust  the  man  and  keep  still. 

When  the  animal  trusts  the  man  he  generally 
comes  out  all  right;  but  once  in  a  long  while  Fate 
interferes  capriciously,  and  the  utterly  unexpected 
happens.  Hundreds  of  times,  and  with  never  a 
mishap,  the  ferryman  had  poled  his  clumsy  scow 
across  the  dangerous  passage  between  the  rapids 


270       Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

—  the  only  possible  crossing-place  for  miles  in 
either  direction.  But  this  evening,  when  the  scow 
was  just  about  mid-channel,  for  some  inexplicable 
reason  the  tough  and  well-tried  pole  of  white 
spruce  snapped.  It  broke  short  off  in  the  middle 
of  a  mighty  thrust.  And  overboard,  head  first, 
went  the  ferryman. 

As  the  man  fell  his  foot  caught  in  the  hook  of  a 
heavy  chain  used  for  securing  hay-carts  and  such 
vehicles  on  the  scow;  and  as  the  clumsy  craft 
swung  free  in  the  current  the  man  was  dragged 
beneath  it.  He  would  have  been  drowned  in  a 
few  seconds,  in  such  water;  but  at  last,  in  the 
twisting,  the  captive  foot  fell  clear.  The  man  came 
to  the  surface  on  the  upper  side  of  the  scow,  made 
one  despairing  but  successful  clutch,  got  hold  of 
the  edge,  and  with  his  last  strength  drew  himself 
aboard,  all  but  suffocated,  and  with  a  broken 
ankle.  Tricked  by  years  of  security,  he  had  left 
his  spare  pole  on  the  shore.  There  was  absolutely 
nothing  to  do  but  let  the  scow  drift,  and  pray  that 
by  some  succession  of  miracles  she  might  survive 
nine  miles  of  rapids  and  gain  the  placid  reaches 
below. 

As  the  man,  white  and  sullen,  crouched  on  the 
bottom  of  the  scow  and  held  his  ankle,  the  colt 


In  tbe  'dnfcnown  H>arfc  271 

eyed  him  wonderingly.  Then  he  eyed  the  river, 
very  anxiously,  and  presently  braced  his  legs  wide 
apart  as  the  scow  gave  a  strange,  disconcerting 
lurch.  The  roar  was  growing  swiftly  louder,  and 
those  fierce  white  waves  appeared  to  be  rushing 
right  up  the  middle  of  the  river  to  meet  the  scow. 
Daunted  at  the  sight,  he  crowded  as  close  as  he 
could  to  the  ferryman,  and  nosed  him  as  if  to  call 
his  attention  to  the  peril. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  scow  was  in  the  rapids. 
But  the  current  had  carried  her  well  inshore, 
where  there  chanced  to  be,  for  several  miles,  a 
comparatively  free  channel,  few  rocks,  and  no  dis- 
astrous ledges.  She  swung  and  wallowed  sicken- 
ingly,  bumping  so  violently  that  once  the  colt's 
knees  gave  way  beneath  him  and  twice  he  was.  all 
but  hurled  overboard.  And  she  took  in  great, 
sloshing  crests  of  waves  till  she  was  half -full  of 
water.  But  she  was  not. built  to  sink,  and  her  ribs 
were  sound.  For  miles  she  pounded  her  terrible 
way  in  safety  through  the  bewildering  tumult.  At 
last  a  long  jutting  promontory  of  rock  started  the 
current  on  a  new  slant,  and  she  was  swept  stagger- 
ing across  to  the  other  shore.  Here,  for  nearly 
two  miles,  she  slipped  with  astonishing  good  luck 
down  a  narrow,  sluice-like  lane  of  almost  smooth 


272       Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

water.  As  if  to  compensate  for  this  fortune,  how- 
ever, she  was  suddenly  caught  by  a  violent  cross- 
current, snatched  out  of  the  clearway,  and  swept 
heavily  over  a  ledge.  At  the  foot  of  this  ledge  she 
was  fairly  smothered  for  some  seconds.  The  man 
clung  obstinately  to  the  gurrwales;  and  the  colt, 
by  sheer  good  luck,  fell  in  the  scow  instead  of  over 
the  side.  By  the  time  he  had  struggled  to  his  feet 
again  the  scow  had  righted  herself,  and  darted  into 
a  wild  chaos  of  rocks  and  sluices  close  by  the 
shore.  Here  she  caught  on  a  boulder,  tipped  up 
till  she  was  nearly  on  her  gunwale,  and  pitched  the 
little  animal  clear  overboard. 

As  the  clumsy  craft  swung  loose  the  very  next 
instant,  the  colt  was  dragged  along  in  her  wake, 
and  would  have  ended  his  adventures  then  and 
there  but  for  the  readiness  of  the  man.  Forget- 
ting for  an  instant  his  own  terrible  plight,  he  drew 
his  knife  and  slashed  the  rope.  Thus  released,  the 
colt  got  his  head  above  w^ater  and  made  a  valiant 
struggle  toward  the  shore,  which  was  now  not  five 
yards  away. 

All  that  he  could  do  in  the  grip  of  that  mad 
flood  was,  needless  to  say,  very  little,  but  it 
chanced  to  be  enough,  for  it  brought  him  within 
the  grasp  of  a  strong  eddy.  A  moment  later  he 


In  tbe  TUnftnown  Darfc  275 

was  dashed  violently  into  shoal  water.  As  he 
fought  to  a  footing  he  saw  the  scow  wallowing 
away  down  the  torrent.  Then  he  found  himself, 
he  knew  not  how,  on  dry  land.  The  falls  roared 
behind  him.  They  might,  it  seemed,  rush  up  at 
any  instant  and  clutch  him  again.  Blind  and  sick 
with  panic,  he  dashed  into  the  woods,  and  went 
galloping  and  stumbling  straight  inland.  At  last 
he  sank  trembling  in  the  deep  grass  of  a  little 
brookside  meadow. 

Being  of  sturdy  stock,  the  brown  colt  soon 
recovered  his  wind.  Then,  feeling  nervous  in  the 
loneliness  of  the  woods  and  the  deepening  shadows, 
he  snatched  a  few  mouthfuls  of  grass  and  started 
to  try  and  find  his  way  home.  Obeying  some 
deep-seated  instinct,  he  set  his  face  aright,  and 
pushed  forward  through  the  thick  growths. 

His  progress,  however,  was  slow.  Among  the 
trees  the  twilight  was  now  gathering,  and  the  dark 
places  filled  his  young  heart  with  vague  but  dread- 
ful apprehensions,  so  that  at  every  few  steps  he 
would  stop  and  stare  backward  over  his  shoulder. 
Presently  he  came  out  upon  another  open  glade, 
and  cheered  by  the  light,  he  followed  this  glade  as 
long  as  it  seemed  to  lead  in  the  right  direction. 
Once  a  wide-winged,  noiseless  shadow  sailed  over 


274       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

his  head,  and  he  shied  with  a  loud  snort  of  terror. 
He  had  never  before  seen  an  owl.  And  once  he 
jumped  back  wildly,  as  a  foraging  mink  rustled 
through  the  herbage  just  before  him.  But  for  all 
the  alarms  that  kept  his  baby  heart  quivering,  he 
pressed  resolutely  forward,  longing  for  the  comfort 
of  his  mother's  flank,  and  the  familiar  stall  in  the 
barn  above  the  ferry. 

As  he  reached  the  end  of  the  glade  his  appre- 
hensive ears  caught  a  curious  sound,  a  sort  of  dry 
rustling,  which  came  from  the  fringe  of  the  under- 
growth. He  halted,  staring  anxiously  at  the  place 
the  strange  sound  came  from.  Immediately 
before  him  was  the  prostrate  and  rotting  trunk  of 
an  elm-tree,  its  roots  hidden  in  the  brushwood,  its 
upper  end  projecting  into  the  grass  and  weeds  of 
the  glade.  As  the  colt  stood  wondering,  a  thick- 
set, short-legged,  grayish  coloured  animal,  covered 
with  long,  bristling  quills,  emerged  from  the  leafage 
and  came  crawling  down  the  trunk  toward  him. 
It  looked  no  larger  than  the  black-and-white  dog 
which  the  colt  was  accustomed  to  seeing  about  the 
farmyard,  but  its  fierce  little  eyes  and  its  formid- 
able quills  made  him  extremely  nervous. 

The  porcupine  came  directly  at  him,  with  an  ill- 
natured  squeaking  grunt.  The  colt  backed  away 


HIS    APPREHENSIVE    EARS    CAUGHT    A    CURIOUS    SOUND.' 


fln  tbe  ZHnfenown  Barfe  275 

a  foot  or  two,  snorting,  then  held  his  ground.  He 
had  never  yielded  ground  to  the  black-and-white 
dog.  Why  should  he  be  afraid  of  this  clumsy 
little  creature?  But  when,  at  last,  the  porcupine 
drew  so  near  that  he  could  have  touched  it  with 
his  outstretched  nose,  instead  of  making  any  such 
great  mistake  as  that  he  flung  his  head  high  in  air, 
wheeled  about,  and  lashed  out  furiously  with  his 
hinder  hoofs.  One  hoof  caught  the  porcupine 
fairly  on  the  snout  and  sent  it  whirling  end  over 
end  into  the  thicket,  where  it  lay  stretched  out 
lifeless,  as  a  feast  for  the  first  hungry  prowler  that 
might  chance  by.  Not  greatly  elated  by  his  vic- 
tory, the  magnitude  of  which  he  in  no  way  realized, 
the  colt  plunged  again  into  the  woods  and  con- 
tinued his  journey. 

By  this  time  the  sun  had  dropped  completely 
behind  the  wooded  hills,  and  here  in  the  deep 
forest  the  dark  seemed  to  come  on  all  at  once. 
The  colt's  fears  now  crowded  upon  him  so  thickly 
that  he  could  hardly  make  any  progress  at  all. 
He  was  kept  busy  staring  this  way  and  that,  and 
particularly  over  his  shoulders.  A  mass  of 
shadow,  denser  than  the  rest,  —  a  stump,  a  moss- 
grown  boulder,  —  would  seem  to  his  frightened 
eyes  a  moving  shape,  just  about  to  spring  upon 


276       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

him.  He  would  jump  to  one  side,  his  baby  heart 
pounding  between  his  ribs,  only  to  see  another  and 
huger  shadow  on  the  other  side,  and  jump  back 
again.  The  sudden  scurrying  of  a  wood-mouse 
over  the  dry  spruce-needles  made  his  knees  tremble 
beneath  him.  At  last,  coming  to  two  tall,  straight- 
trunked  saplings  growing  close  together  just  before 
the  perpendicular  face  of  a  great  rock,  he  was 
vaguely  reminded  of  the  cow-stanchions  near  his 
mother's  stall  in  the  barn.  To  his  quivering  heart 
this  was  in  some  way  a  refuge,  as  compared  with 
the  terrible  spaciousness  of  the  forest.  He  could 
not  make  himself  go  any  farther,  but  crowded  up 
as  close  as  possible  against  the  friendly  trees  and 
waited. 

He  had  no  idea,  of  course,  what  he  was  waiting 
for,  unless  he  had  some  dim  expectation  that  his 
dead  mother,  or  his  owner,  or  the  man  on  the  ferry- 
boat would  come  and  lead  him  home.  His  in- 
stinct taught  him  that  the  dark  of  the  wilderness 
held  unknown  perils  for  him,  though  his  guarded 
babyhood  had  afforded  him  no  chance  to  learn  by 
experience.  Young  as  he  was,  he  took  up  the 
position  which  gave  his  peculiar  weapons  oppor- 
tunity for  exercise.  Instead  of  backing  up  against 
the  trees  and  the  rock,  and  facing  such  foes  as  the 


THE     BIG    OWL     HAD     BEEN     DISTURBED     AT    ITS    BANQUET. 


In  tbe  TUnfenown  Barfc  277 

dread  dark  might  send  upon  him,  he  stood  with 
his  back  toward  the  danger  and  his  formidable* 
heels  in  readiness,  while  over  first  one  shoulder, 
then  the  other,  his  eyes  and  ears  kept  guard.  The 
situation  was  one  that  might  well  have  cowed  him 
completely;  but  the  blood  in  his  baby  veins  was 
that  of  mettled  ancestors,  and  terrified  though  he 
was,  and  trembling,  his  fear  did  not  conquer  his 
spirit. 

Soon  after  he  had  taken  his  stand  in  this  strange 
and  desolate  stabling,  from  a  little  way  back  in  the 
underbrush  there  came  a  pounce,  a  scuffle,  and  a 
squeal,  more  scuffle,  and  then  silence.  He  could 
not  even  guess  what  was  happening,  but  whatever 
it  was,  it  was  terrible  to  him.  For  some  moments 
there  came,  from  the  same  spot,  little,  soft,  ugly, 
thickish  sounds.  These  stopped  abruptly.  Im- 
mediately afterwards  there  was  a  hurried  beating 
of  wings,  and  something  floated  over  him.  The 
big  owl  had  been  disturbed  at  its  banquet.  A 
few  seconds  more  and  the  watcher's  ears  caught  a 
patter  of  light  footsteps  approaching.  Next  he 
saw  a  faint  gleam  of  eyes,  which  seemed  to  scru- 
tinize him  steadily,  fearlessly,  indifferently,  for 
perhaps  the  greater  part  of  a  minute.  Then  they 
vanished,  with  more  patter  of  light  footsteps; 


278       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

and  as  they  disappeared  a  wandering  puff  of  night 
air  brought  to  the  colt's  nostrils  a  musky  scent 
which  he  knew.  It  was  the  smell  of  a  red  fox, 
such  as  he  had  seen  once  prowling  around  his 
owner's  barn-yard.  This  smell,  from  its  associa- 
tions, was  comforting  rather  than  otherwise,  and 
he  would  have  been  glad  if  the  fox  had  stayed 
near. 

For  some  time  now  there  was  stillness  all  about 
the  big  rock,  the  owl's  kill  and  the  passing  of  the 
fox  having  put  all  the  small  wild  creatures  on 
their  guard.  Little  by  little  the  colt  was  beginning 
to  get  used  to  the  situation.  He  was  even  begin- 
ning to  relax  the  tense  vigilance  of  his  watching, 
when  suddenly  his  heart  gave  a  leap  and  seemed 
to  stand  still.  Just  about  ten  paces  behind  him 
he  saw  a  pair  of  pale,  green-gleaming  eyes,  round, 
and  set  wider  apart  than  those  of  the  fox,  slowly 
floating  toward  him.  At  the  same  time  his  nos- 
trils caught  a  scent  which  was  absolutely  unknown 
to  him,  and  peculiarly  terrifying. 

As  these  two  dreadful*  eyes  drew  near,  the  colt's 
muscles  grew  tense  Then  he  distinguished  a 
shadowy,  crouching  form  behind  the  eyes ;  and  he 
gathered  his  haunches  under  him  for  a  desperate 
defence.  But  the  big  lynx  was  wary.  This  long- 


In  tbe  innfenown  H>arfc  279 

legged  creature  who  stood  thus  with  his  back  to 
him  and  eyed  him  with  watchful,  sidelong  glances 
was  something  he  did  not  understand.  Before  he 
came  within  range  of  the  colt's  heels  he  swerved  to 
one  side  and  stole  around  at  a  safe  distance,  inves- 
tigating. He  was  astonished,  and  at  first  discom- 
fited, to  find  that,  whichever  way  he  circled,  the 
unknown  animal  under  the  rock  persisted  in 
keeping  his  back  to  him.  For  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  with  occasional  intervals  of  motionless 
crouching,  he  kept  up  this  slow  circling,  unable 
to  allay  his  suspicions.  Then,  apparently  making 
up  his  mind  that  the  unknown  was  not  a  dangerous 
adversary,  or  perhaps  in  some  subtle  way  detecting 
his  youth,  he  crept  closer.  He  crept  so  close, 
indeed,  that  he  felt  emboldened  to  spring ;  and  he 
was  just  about  to  do  so. 

Just  at  this  moment,  luckily  just  the  right 
moment,  the  colt  let  loose  the  catapult  of  his 
strong  haunches.  His  hoofs  struck  the  lynx 
fairly  in  the  face,  and  hurled  him  backwards 
against  a  neighbouring  tree. 

Half -stunned,  and  his  wind  knocked  out,  the  big 
cat  picked  himself  up  with  a  sharp  spitting  and 
snarling,  and  slunk  behind  the  tree.  Then  he 
turned  tail  and  ran  away,  thoroughly  beaten. 


280       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

The  strange  animal  had  a  fashion  in  fighting  which 
he  did  not  know  how  to  cope  with ;  and  he  had  no 
spirit  left  for  further  lessons. 

After  this  the  night  wore  on  without  great  event, 
though  with  frequent  alarms  which  kept  the  colt's 
nerves  ceaselessly  on  the  rack.  Now  it  was  the 
faint,  almost  imperceptible  sound  of  a  hunting 
weasel;  now  it  was  the  erratic  scurrying  of  the 
wood-mice;  now  it  was  the  loud  but  muffled 
thumping  of  a  hare,  astonished  at  this  long-limbed 
intruder  upon  the  wilderness  domains.  The  colt 
was  accustomed  to  sleeping  well  through  the  night, 
and  this  protracted  vigil  upon  his  feet  (for  he  was 
afraid  to  lie  down)  exhausted  him.  When  the 
first  spectral  gray  of  dawn  began  to  work  its  magic 
through  the  forest,  his  legs  were  trembling  so  that 
he  could  hardly  stand.  When  the  first  pink  rays 
crept  in  beneath  the  rock,  he  sank  down  and  lay 
for  half  an  hour,  not  sleeping,  but  resting.  Then 
he  got  up  and  resumed  his  homeward  journey, 
very  hungry,  but  too  desperate  with  chill  and 
homesickness  to  stop  and  eat. 

He  had  travelled  perhaps  a  mile,  when  he  caught 
the  sound  of  heavy,  careless  footsteps,  and 
stopped.  Staring  anxiously  through  the  trees, 
he  saw  a  woodsman  striding  along  the  trail,  with 


1Tn  tbe  TUnfenown  2>arfc  281 

an  axe  over  his  shoulder.  At  sight  of  one  of  those 
beings  that  stood  to  him  for  protection,  and  kindly 
guidance,  and  shelter,  his  terror  and  loneliness  all 
slipped  away.  He  gave  a  shrill,  loud  whinny  of 
delight,  galloped  forward  with  much  crashing  of 
underbrush,  and  snuggled  a  coaxing  muzzle  under 
the  arm  of  the  astonished  woodsman. 


terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves 


[T  was  in  Singapore  that  big  Jan  Laurvik, 
the  diver,  heard  about  the  lost  pearls. 
As  he  was  passing  the  head  of  a  mean- 
looking  alley  near  the  waterside,  late  one  swelter- 
ing afternoon,  he  was  halted  by  a  sudden  uproar  of 
cries  and  curses.  The  noise  came  from  a  courtyard 
about  twenty  paces  up  the  alley.  It  was  a  fight, 
evidently,  and  Jan's  blood  responded  with  a  sym- 
pathetic thrill.  But  the  curses  which  he  caught 
were  all  in  Malay  or  Chinese,  and  he  curbed  his 
natural  desire  to  rush  in  and  help  somebody. 
Though  he  knew  both  languages  very  well,  he 
knew  that  he  did  not  know,  and  never  could  know, 
the  people  who  spoke  those  languages.  Inter- 
ference on  the  part  of  a  stranger  might  be  resented 
by  both  parties  to  the  quarrel.  He  shrugged  his 
great  shoulders,  and  walked  on  reluctantly. 

Hardly   three   steps   had   he   taken,   however, 
when  above  the  shrill  cries  a  great  voice  shouted. 
282 


Ube  Uerror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        283 

"  Take  that,  you  damned  —  "  it  began,  in 
English.  And  at  that  it  ended,  with  a  kind  of 
choking. 

Jan  Laurvik  wheeled  round  in  a  flash  and  ran 
furiously  for  the  door  of  the  courtyard,  which 
stood  half  -open .  He  was  a  Norwegian,  but  Eng- 
glish  was  as  a  native  tongue  to  him ;  and  amid  the 
jumble  of  races  in  the  East  he  counted  all  of 
European  speech  his  brothers.  Ah  Englishman 
was  being  killed  in  there.  The  quarrel  was  clearly 
his. 

Six  feet  two  in  height,  swift,  and  of  huge  strength, 
with  yellow  hair,  so  light  as  to  be  almost  white, 
waving  thickly  over  a  face  that  was  sunburnt  to  a 
high  red,  his  blue  eyes  flaming  with  the  delight  of 
battle,  Jan  burst  in  upon  the  mob  of  fighters. 
Several  bodies  lay  on  ths  floor.  One  dark-faced, 
low-browed  fellow,  a  Lascar  apparently,,  with  his 
back  to  the  wall  and  a  bloody  kreese  in  his  hand, 
was  putting  up  a  savage  fight  against  five  or  six 
assailants,  who  seemed  to  be  Chinamen  and  Malays. 
The  body  of  the  Englishman  whose  voice  Jan  had 
heard  lay  in  an  ugly  heap  against  the  wall,  its 
head  far  back  and  almost  severed. 

Jan's  practised  eye  took  in  everything  at  a 
glance.  The  heavy  stick  he  carried  was,  for  a 


284       Ube  Daunters  of  tbe  Silences 

melee  like  this,  a  better  weapon  than  knife  or  gun. 
With  a  great  bellowing  roar  he  sprang  upon  the 
knot  of  fighters. 

The  result  was  almost  instantaneous.  The 
two  nearest  rascals  went  down  at  his  first  two 
strokes.  At  the  sound  of  that  huge  roar  of  his  all 
had  turned  their  eyes;  and  the  man  at  bay,  seiz- 
ing his  opportunity,  had  cut  down  two  more  of  his 
foes  with  lightning  slashes  of  his  blade.  The  re- 
maining two,  scattering  and  ducking,  had  leaped 
for  the  door  like  rabbits,  Jan  wheeled,  and  sprang 
after  them.  But  they  were  too  quick  for  him. 
As  he  reached  the  head  of  the  alley  they  darted 
into  a  narrow  doorway  across  the  street  which  led 
into  a  regular  warren  of  low  structures.  Knowing 
it  would  be  madness  to  follow,  Jan  turned  back  to 
the  courtyard,  curious  to  find  out  what  it  had  all 
been  about. 

The  silence  was  now  startling.  As  he  entered, 
there  was  no  sound  but  the  painful  breathing  of  the 
Lascar,  whom  he  found  sitting  with  his  back 
against  the  wall,  close  beside  the  body  of  the 
Englishman.  He  was  desperately  slashed.  His 
eyes  were  half-closed ;  and  Jan  saw  that  there  was 
little  chance  of  his  recovery.  Besides  that  of  the 
Englishman,  there  were  six  bodies  lying  on  the 


TTbe  ZTerror  ot  tbe  Sea  Caves        285 

floor,  all  apparently  quite  lifeless.  Jan  saw  that 
the  place  was  a  kind  of  drinking  den.  The  pro- 
prietor, a  brutal-looking  Chinaman,  lay  dead 
beside  his  jugs  and  bottles.  Jan  reached  for  a  jug 
of  familiar  appearance,  poured  out  a  cup  of  arrack, 
and  held  it  to  the  lips  of  the  dying  Lascar.  At  the 
first  gulp  of  the  potent  spirit  his  eyes  opened 
again.  He  swallowed  it  all,  eagerly,  then  straight- 
ened himself  up,  held  out  his  hand  in  European 
fashion  to  Jan,  and  thanked  him  in  Malayan. 

"  Who's  that?  "  inquired  Jan  in  the  same  tongue, 
pointing  to  the  dead  white  man. 

Grief  and  rage  convulsed  the  fierce  face  of  the 
wounded  Lascar. 

"  He  was  my  friend,"  he  answered.  "  The  sons 
of  filthy  mothers,  they  killed  him!  " 

"  Too  bad!  "  said  Jan  sympathetically.  "  But 
you  gave  a  pretty  good  account  of  yourselves,  you 
two.  I  like  a  man  that  can  fight  like  you  were 
fighting  when  I  came  in.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?  " 

"I'm  dead,  pretty  soon  now!  "  said  the  fellow 
indifferently.  And  from  the  blood  that  was  soak- 
ing down  his  shirt  and  spreading  on  the  floor  about 
him,  Jan  saw  that  the  words  were  true.  Anxious, 
however,  to  do  something  to  show  his  good  will, 


286       Ube  Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

he  pulled  out  his  big  red  handkerchief,  and  knelt 
to  bandage  a  gaping  slash  straight  across  the  man's 
left  forearm,  from  which  the  bright  arterial  blood 
was  jumping  hotly.  As  he  bent,  the  fellow's  eyes 
lifted  and  looked  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Look  out!  "  he  screamed.  Before  the  words 
were  fairly  out  of  his  mouth  Jan  had  thrown  him- 
self violently  to  one  side  and  sprung  to  his  feet. 
He  was  just  in  time.  The  knife  of  one  of  the 
Chinamen  whom  he  had  supposed  to  be  dead  was 
sticking  in  the  wall  beside  the  Lascar's  arm. 

Jan  stared  at  the  bodies  —  all,  apparently, 
lifeless. 

"  That's  the  one  did  it,"  cried  the  Lascar  ex- 
citedly, pointing  to  the  one  whom  Jan  had  struck 
on  the  head  with  his  stick.  "  Put  your  knife  into 
the  son  of  a  dog!  " 

But  that  was  not  the  big  Norseman's  way.  He 
wanted  to  assure  himself.  He  went  and  bent  over 
the  limp-looking,  sprawling  shape,  to  examine  it. 
As  he  did  so  the  slant  eyes  opened  upon  his  with  a 
flash  of  such  maniacal  hate  that  he  started  back. 
He  was  just  in  time  to  save  his  eyes,  for  the  China- 
man had  clutched  at  them  like  lightning  with  his 
long  nails. 

Startled  and  furious  at  this  novel  attack,  Jan 


ZTbe  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        287 

reached  for  his -knife.  But  before  he  could  get  his 
hand  on  it  the  Chinaman  had  leaped  into  the  air 
like  a  wildcat,  wound  arms  and  legs  about  his 
body,  and  was  struggling  like  a  mad  beast  to  set 
teeth  into  his  throat.  The  attack  was  so  miracu- 
lously swift,  so  disconcerting  in  its  beast-like 
ferocity,  that  Jan  felt  a  strange  qualm  that  was 
almost  akin  to  panic.  Then  a  black  rage  swelled 
his  muscles ;  and  tearing  the  creature  from  him  he 
dashed  him  down  upon  the  floor,  on  the  back  of 
his  neck,  with  a  violence  which  left  no  need  of 
pursuing  the  question  further.  Not  till  he  had 
examined  each  of  the  bodies  carefully,  and  tried 
them  with  his  knife,  did  he  turn  again  to  the 
wounded  Lascar  leaning  against  the  wall. 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend!  "  he  said  simply. 

"You're  a  good  fighting  man.  You're — like 
him,"  answered  the  Lascar  feebly,  nodding  toward 
the  dead  Englishman.  "  Give  me  more  arrack. 
I  will  tell  you  something.  Hurry,  for  I  go 
soon." 

Jan  brought  him  the  liquor,  and  he  gulped  it. 
Then  from  a  pouch  within  his  knotted  'silk  waist- 
band he  hurriedly  produced  a  bit  of  paper  which 
he  unfolded  with  trembling  fingers,  Jan  saw  that 
it  was  a  rough  map  sketched  with  India  ink  and 


288       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

marked  with  Malayan  characters.  The  Lascar 
peered  about  him  with  fierce  eyes  already  growing 
dim. 

"  Are  you  sure  they  are  all  gone?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

"Certain!"    answered   Jan,   highly  interested. 

"  They'll  try  their  best  to  kill  you,"  went  on  the 
dying  man.  "  Don't  let  them.  If  you  let  them 
get  the  pearls,  I'll  come  back  and  haunt  you." 

"  I  won't  let  them  kill  me,  and  I  won't  let  them 
get  the  pearls,  if  that's  what  it  is  that's  made  all 
the  trouble.  Don't  worry  about  that,"  responded 
Jan  confidently,  reaching  out  his  great  hand  for 
the  paper,  which  was  evidently  so  precious  that 
men  were  giving  up  their  lives  for  it. 

The  man  handed  it  over  with  a  groping  gesture, 
though  his  savage  black  eyes  were  wide  open. 

"  That'll  show  you  where  the  wreck  of  the  junk 
lies,  in  seven  or  eight  fathom  of  water,  close  in- 
shore. The  pearls  are  in  the  deck-house.  He 
kept  them.  The  steamer  was  on  a  reef,  going  to 
pieces,  and  we  came  up  just  as  the  boats  were  put- 
ting off.  We  sunk  them  all,  and  got  the  pearls. 
And  next  night,  in  a  storm,  the  junk  was  carried 
on  to  the  rocks  by  a  current  we  didn't  know  about. 
Only  five  of  us  got  ashore  —  for  the  sharks  were 


Ube  Uerror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves       289 

around,  and  the  '  killers,'  that  night.  Him  and 
me,  we  were  the  only  ones  knew  enough  to  make 
that  map." 

Here  the  dying  pirate  —  for  such  he  had  de- 
clared himself  —  sank  forward  with  his  face  upon 
his  knees.  But  with  a  mighty  effort  he  sat  up 
again  and  fixed  Jan  Laurvik  with  terrible  eyes. 

"  Don't  let  the  sons  of  a  dog  get  them,  or  I  will 
come  back  and  choke  you  in  your  sleep,"  he 
gasped,  suddenly  pointing  a  lean  finger  straight 
at  the  Norseman's  face.  Then  his  black  eyes 
opened  wide,  a  strange  red  light  blazed  up  in  them 
for  an  instant  and  faded.  With  a  sigh  he  toppled 
over,  dead,  his  head  resting  on  the  dead  English- 
man's feet. 

II 

Jan  Laurvik  looked  down  upon  the  slack  form 
with  a  sort  of  grim  indulgence.  "  He  was  game, 
and  he  loved  his  comrade,  though  he  was  but  a 
bloody-hearted  pirate!  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 

With  the  paper  folded  small  and  hidden  in  his 
great  palm,  he  glanced  again  from  the  door  to  see 
if  any  of  the  routed  scoundrels  were  coming  back. 
Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  once  more  investigated 
the  dead  bodies  on  the  floor,  to  assure  himself  that 


290       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

all  were  as  dead  as  they  appeared.  Then  he  set 
himself  to  examine  the  precious  'paper,  which  held 
out  to  his  imagination  all  sorts  of  fascinating  pos- 
sibilities. He  knew  that  the  swift  boats  carrying 
the  proceeds  of  the  pearl-fisheries  were  always 
eagerly  watched  by  the  piratical  junks  infesting 
those  waters,  but  carried  an  armament  which 
secured  them  from  all  interference.  In  case  of 
wreck,  however,  the  pirates'  opportunity  would 
come.  Jan  knew  that  the  story  he  had  just  heard 
was  no  improbable  one. 

The  map  proved  to  be  rough,  but  very  intelligi- 
ble. It  indicated  a  stretch  of  the  eastern  coast  of 
Java,  which  Jan  recognized;  but  the  spot  where 
the  junk  had  gone  down  was  one  to  which  passing 
ships  always  gave  a  wide  berth.  It  was  a  place  of 
treacherous  anchorage,  of  abrupt,  forbidding,  un- 
inhabited shore,  and  of  violent  currents  that 
shifted  erratically.  So  much  the  better,  thought 
Jan,  for  his  investigations,  if  only  the  pirate  junk 
should  prove  to  have  been  considerate  enough  to 
sink  in  water  not  too  deep  for  a  diver  to  work  in. 
There  would  be  so  much  the  less  danger  of  inter- 
ruption. 

Jan  was  on  the  point  of  hurrying  away  from  the 
gruesome  scene,  which  might  at  any  moment 


Ube  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        291 

become  a  scene  of  excitement  and  annoying  inves- 
tigation, when  a  new  idea  flashed  into  his  mind. 
It  was  over  this  precious  paper  that  all  the  trouble 
had  been.  The  scoundrels  who  had  fled  would 
undoubtedly  return  as  soon  as  they  dared,  and 
would  search  for  it.  Finding  it  gone  they  would 
conclude  that  he  had  it ;  and  they  would  be  hot  on 
his  trail.  He  had  no  fancy  for  the  sleepless  vigi- 
lance that  this  would  entail  upon  him.  He  had  no 
fancy  for  the  heavy  armed  expedition  which  it 
would  force  him  to  organize  for  the  pearl  hunt. 
He  saw  his  airy  palaces  toppling  ignominiously  to 
earth.  He  saw  that  all  he  was  likely  to  get  was  a 
slit  throat. 

As  he  glanced  about  him  for  a  way  out  of  his 
dilemma  his  eyes  fell  on  a  bottle  of  India  ink  con- 
taining the  fine-tipped  brush  with  which  these 
Orientals  did  their  writing.  His  resourcefulness 
awoke  to  this  chance.  The  moments  were  becom- 
ing very  pearls  themselves  for  preciousness,  but 
seizing  the  brush,  he  made  a  workable  copy  of  the 
map  on  the  back  of  a  letter  which  he  had  in  his 
pocket.  Then  he  made  a  minute  and  very  careful 
correction  in  the  original,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
indicate  that  the  position  of  the  wreck  was  in  a 
deep  fiord  some  fifty  miles  east  of  where  it  actually 


292       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

was.  This  done  to  his  critical  satisfaction,  he  re- 
turned the  map  to  its  hiding-place  in  the  dead 
pirate's  belt,  and  made  all  haste  away.  Not  till 
he  was  back  in  the  European  quarter  did  he  feel 
himself  secure.  Once  among  his  fellow  whites, 
where  he  was  a  man  of  known  standing  and  re- 
puted to  be  the  best  diver  in  the  Archipelago,  he 
knew  that  he  would  run  no  risk  of  being  connected 
with  a  drinking  brawl  of  Lascars  and  pirates.  As 
for  the  dead  Englishman,  he  knew  the  odds  were 
that  the  Singapore  police  would  know  all  about 
him. 

Jan  Laurvik  had  a  little  capital.  But  he  needed 
a  trusty  partner  with  more.  To  his  experienced 
wits  his  other  needs  were  clear.  There  would  have 
to  be  a  very  seaworthy  little  steamer,  powerfully 
engined  for  service  on  that  stormy  coast,  and 
armed  to  defend  herself  against  prowling  pirate 
junks.  This  small  and  fit  craft  would  have  to  be 
manned  by  a  crew  equally  fit,  and  at  the  same 
time  as  small  as  possible,  for  the  reason  that  in  a 
venture  of  this  sort  every  one  concerned  would  of 
necessity  come  in  for  a  share  of  the  winnings. 
Moreover,  the  fewer  there  were  to  know,  the  fewer 
the  chances  of  the  secret  leaking  out ;  and  Jan  was 
even  more  in  dread  of  the  Dutch  Government  get- 


Ube  Uerror  ot  tbe  Sea  Caves        293 

ting  wind  of  it  than  he  was  of  the  pirates  picking 
up  his  trail. 

Up  to  a  certain  point,  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
verifying  the  dead  pirate's  story.  He  had  heard 
of  the  wreck  of  the  Dutch  steamer  Viecht  on  a 
reef  off  the  Celebes,  and  of  the  massacre  of  all  the 
crew  and  passengers,  except  one  small  boat- load, 
by  pirates.  This  had  happened  about  eight 
months  ago.  Discreet  inquiry  developed  the  fact 
that  the  Viecht  had  carried  about  $300,000  worth 
of  pearls.  The  evidence  was  sufficiently  convin- 
cing and  the  prize  was  sufficiently  alluring  to  make 
it  worth  his  while  to  risk  the  adventure. 

It  was  with  a  certain  amount  of  Northern  delib- 
eration that  Jan  Laurvik  thought  these  points  all 
out,  and  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do.  Then  he 
acted  promptly.  First  he  cabled  to  Calcutta,  to 
one  Captain  Jerry  Parsons,  to  join  him  in  Singa- 
pore without  fail  by  the  very  next  steamer.  Then 
he  set  himself  unobtrusively  to  the  task  of  finding 
the  craft  he  wanted  and  looking  up  the  equipment 
for  her. 

Captain  Jerry  Parsons  was  a  New  Englander, 
from  Portland,  Me.  He  had  been  whaler,  gold- 
hunter,  filibuster,  copra-trader,  general-in-chief 
to  a  small  Central  American  republic,  and  sheep- 


294       tTbe  t>aunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

farmer  in  the  Australian  bush.  At  present  he  was 
conducting  a  more  or  less  regular  trade  in  precious 
stones  among  the  lesser  Indian  potentates.  He 
loved  gain  much,  but  he  loved  adventure  more. 

When  he  received  the  cable  from  his  good  friend 
Jan  Laurvik,  he  knew  that  both  were  beckoning  to 
him.  With  light-hearted  zest  he  betook  himself 
to  the  steamship  offices,  found  a  P.  &  O.  boat  sail- 
ing on  the  morrow,  and  booked  his  passage. 
Throughout  the  journey  he  amused  himself  with 
trying  to  guess  what  Jan  Laurvik  was  after ;  and, 
as  it  happened,  almost  the  only  thing  he  failed  to 
think  of  was  pearls. 

When  Captain  Jerry  reached  Singapore  Jan 
Laurvik  told  him  the  story  of  the  dead  pirate's 
map. 

"  Let's  see  the  map!  "  said  he,  chewing  hard  on 
the  butt  of  his  unlighted  Manila. 

Jan  passed  his  copy  over.  The  New  Englander 
inspected  it  carefully,  in  silence,  for  several  min- 
tues. 

"  'Tain't  much  of  a  map!  "  said  he  at  length 
disparagingly.  "  You  think  the  varmint  was 
straight?  " 

"  In  his  way,  yes,"  answered  Jan  with  convic- 
tion. "  He  had  it  in  him  to  be  straight  in  his  way 


Ube  Uerror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        295 

to  a  friend,  which  wouldn't  hinder  him  cuttin'  the 
throats  of  a  thousand  chaps  he  didn't  take  an 
interest  in." 

"  When  shall  we  start?  "  asked  Captain  Jerry. 
Now  that  his  mind  was  quite  made  up  he  took  out 
his  match-box  and  carefully  lighted  his  cheroot. 

The  big  Norseman's  face  lighted  up  with  pleas- 
ure, and  he  reached  out  his  hand.  The  grip  was 
all,  in  the  way  of  a  bargain,  that  was  needed  be- 
tween them. 

"  Why,  to-morrow  night!  "  he  answered. 

"  Well,"  said  the  New  Englander,  "  I'll  draw 
some  cash  in  the  morning." 

The  boat  which  Jan  had  hired  was  a  fast  and 
sturdy  seagoing  tug,  serviceable,  but  not  designed 
for  comfort.  Jan  had  retained  her  engineer,  a 
shrewd  and  close-mouthed  Scotchman.  Her  sail- 
ing-master would  be  Captain  Jerry.  For  crew  he 
had  chosen  a  wiry  little  Welshman  and  two  lank 
leather-skinned  Yankees.  To  these  four,  for 
whose  honesty  and  loyalty  he  trusted  to  his  own 
insight  as  a  reader  of  men,  he  explained,  partially, 
the  nature  of  the  undertaking,  and  agreed  to  give 
them,  over  and  above  their  wages,  a  substantial 
percentage  of  whatever  treasure  he  might  succeed 
in  recovering.  He  had  made  his  selection  wisely, 


Ibaunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

and  every  man  of  the  four  laid  hold  of  the  oppor- 
tunity with  ardour. 

The  tug  was  swift  enough  to  elude  any  of  the 
junks  infesting  those  waters,  but  the  danger  was 
that  she  might  be  taken  by  surprise  at  her  anchor- 
age while  Laurvik  was  under  water.  He  fitted 
her,  therefore,  with  a  Maxim  gun  on  the  roof  of  the 
deck-house,  and  armed  the  crew  with  repeating 
Winchesters. 

Thus  equipped,  he  felt  ready  for  any  perils  that 
might  confront  him  above  the  surface  of  the  water. 
As  to  what  might  lurk  below  he  felt  somewhat  less 
confident,  as  these  he  should  have  to  face  alone, 
and  he  remembered  the  ominous  warning  of  his 
pirate  friend,  about  the  sharks  and  the  "  killers." 
For  sharks  Jan  Laurvik  had  comparatively  small 
concern;  but  for  the  "killers,"  those  swift  and 
implacable  little  whales  who  fear  no  living  thing, 
he  entertained  the  highest  respect. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  after  Captain  Jerry's 
arrival,  the  tug  Sarawak  steamed  quietly  out  of 
the  harbour.  As  this  was  a  customary  thing  for 
her  to  do,  it  excited  no  particular  comment  among 
the  frequenters  of  the  waterside.  By  the  pirates' 
spies,  who  abounded  in  the  city,  it  was  not  con- 
sidered an  event  worth  making  note  of. 


Ube  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        297 

The  journey,  across  the  Straits,  and  down  the 
treacherous  Javan  Sea,  was  so  prosperous  that  Jan 
Laurvik,  his  blood  steeped  in  Norse  superstition, 
began  to  feel  uneasy.  The  sea  was  like  a  mill- 
pond  all  the  way,  and  they  were  sighted  by  no  one 
likely  to  interfere  or  ask  questions.  Jan  dis- 
trusted Fortune  when  she  seemed  to  smile  too 
blandly.  But  Captain  Jerry  comforted  him  with 
the  assurance  that  there'd  be  trouble  enough 
ahead ;  and  strangely  enough  this  singular  variety 
of  comfort  quite  relieved  Jan's  depression. 

The  unusual  calm  made  it  easy  to  hold  close 
inshore,  when  they  reached  that  portion  of  the 
coast  where  they  must  keep  watch  for  the  land- 
marks indicated  on  the  pirate's  map.  Every  reef 
and  surface-ledge  boiled  ceaselessly  in  the  smooth 
swell,  and  by  that  clear  green  sea  they  were  saved 
the  trouble  of  tedious  soundings.  When  they 
came  exactly  abreast  of  a  low  headland  which  they 
had  been  watching  for  some  time,  it  suddenly 
opened  out  into  the  semblance  of  a  two-humped 
camel  crouching  sidewise  to  the  sea,  exactly  as  it 
was  represented  in  Jan's  map.  Just  beyond  was 
a  narrow  bay,  and  across  the  middle  of  its  mouth, 
with  a  dangerous  passage  on  either  side,  stretched 
the  reef  on  which  the  pirate  junk  had  gone  down. 


298       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

At  this  hour  of  low  water  the  reef  was  showing  its 
teeth  and  snarling  with  surf.  At  high  tide  it 
would  be  hidden,  and  a  perfect  snare  of  ships. 
According  to  the  map,  the  wreck  lay  in  some  eight 
fathoms  of  water,  midway  of  the  outer  crescent  of 
the  reef.  Behind  the  reef,  where  the  latter  might 
serve  them  as  a  partial  shelter  from  the  sweep  of 
the  seas  if  a  northeaster  should  blow  up,  they  found 
tolerable  anchorage  for  the  tug.  For  the  pre- 
liminary soundings,  and  for  the  diving  operations, 
of  course,  Jan  planned  to  use  the  launch.  And, 
in  order  to  take  utmost  advantage  of  the  phenom- 
enal calm,  which  seemed  determined  to  smooth 
away  every  obstacle  for  the  adventurers,  Jan  got 
instantly  to  work.  Within  a  half-hour  of  the 
Sarawak's  anchoring  he  had  the  launch  outside  the 
reef  with  all  his  diving  apparatus  aboard,  with 
Captain  Jerry  to  manage  the  air-pump,  and  the 
Scotch  engineer  to  run  the  motor. 


in 

Along  the  outer  face  of  the  reef,  at  a  depth 
varying  from  eight  to  twelve  fathoms,  ran  an 
irregular  rocky  shelf  which  dipped  gradually  sea- 
ward for  several  hundred  yards,  then  dropped 


Ube  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        299 

sheer  to  the  ocean  depths.  In  the  warm  water 
along  this  shelf  swarmed  a  teeming  life,  of  gay- 
coloured  gigantic  weeds,  and  of  strange  fish  that 
outdid  the  brightest  weeds  in  brilliancy  and  unex-« 
pectedness  of  hue.  Where  the  tropic  sunlight 
filtered  dimly  down  through  the  beryl  tide  it  sank 
into  a  marvellous  garden  whose  flowers,  for  the 
most  part,  were  living  and  moving  forms,  some 
monstrous,  many  terrifying,  and  almost  all  as 
grotesque  in  shape  as  they  were  radiant  in  colour. 
But  in  that  insufficient,  glimmering  light,  which 
was  rather,  to  a  human  eye,  a  vaguely  translucent, 
greenish  darkness,  these  colours  were  almost 
blotted  out.  It  took  eyes  adapted  to  the  depth 
and  gloom  to  differentiate  them  clearly. 

In  the  great  deeps,  also,  beyond  the  edge  of  the 
shelf,  thronged  life  in  swimming,  crawling,  or 
moveless  forms,  of  every  imagined  and  many  un- 
imagined  shapes,  from  creatures  so  tiny  that  a 
whole  colony  could  dwell  at  ease  in  the  eye  of  a 
cambric  needle,  to  the  Titanic  squid,  or  cuttlefish, 
with  oval  bodies  fifty  feet  in  length  and  arms  like 
writhing  constrictors  reaching  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  farther.  It  was  a  life  of  noiseless  but  terrific 
activity,  of  unrelenting  and  incessant  death,  in  a 
darkness  streaked  fitfully  with  phosphorescent 


300       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

gleams  from  the  bodies  of  the  darting,  writhing, 
or  pouncing  creatures  that  slew  and  were  slain  in 
the  stupendous  silence. 

Down  to  these  dwellers  in  the  profound  had 
come  some  mysterious  message  or  exciting  influ- 
ence," no  man  knows  what,  from  the  prolonged 
calm  on^  the  surface.  It  affected  individuals 
among  various  species,  in  such  a  way  that  they 
moved  upward,  into  a  twilight  where  they  were 
aliens  and  intruders.  Among  those  so  stung  with 
unrest  were  several  of  the  gigantic,  pallid  cuttles. 
Far  offshore,  one  of  these  monsters  came  up  and 
sprawled  upon  the  surface  in  the  unfriendly  sun, 
his  dreadful  arms  curling  and  uncurling  like 
snakes,  till  a  great  sperm-whale,  of  scarcely  more 
than  his  own  size,  came  by  and  fell  upon  him 
ravenously,  and  devoured  him. 

Another  of  the  restless  monsters,  however,  kept 
his  restlessness  within  the  bounds  of  discretion. 
Slowly  rising,  a  vast  and  spectral  horror  as  he 
came  up  into  the  green  light,  he  reached  the  rim  of 
the  ledge.  The  growing  light  had  already  made 
him  uneasy,  and  he  wanted  no  more  of  it.  Here 
on  the  ledge,  where  food,  though  novel  in  charac- 
ter, was  unlimited  in  supply,  was  variety  enough 
to  content  him.  Gorging  himself  as  he  went  with 


Uerrot  ot  tbe  Sea  Caves        30! 

everything  that  swam  within  reach  of  his  darting 
tentacles,  he  moved  over  the  rocky  floor  till  he 
came  to  the  wreck  of  the  junk. 

To  his  huge  unwinking  eyes  of  crystal  black, 
which  caught  every  tiniest  ray  of  light  in  their 
smooth,  appalling  deeps,  the  wreck  looked  strange 
enough  to  attract  his  attention  at  once.  It  was 
quite  unlike  any  rock-form  which  he  had  ever 
seen.  Rather  cautiously  he  advanced  a  giant 
tentacle  to  investigate  it.  But  at  the  touch  of  the 
unfamiliar  and  alien  substance  the  tentacle  re- 
coiled in  aversion.  The  pale  monster  backed 
away.  But  the  wreck  made  no  attempt  to  pounce 
upon  him.  It  seemed  to  have  no  fight  in  it,  Pos- 
sibly, on  closer  investigation.it  might  prove  to  be 
good  to  eat;  and  he  was  hungry.  In  fact,  he  was 
always  hungry,  for  the  irresistible  corrosives  in  his 
great  stomach  —  and  he  was  nearly  all  stomach  — 
were  so  swift  in  their  action  that  whatever  he 
swallowed  was  digested  almost  in  the  swallowing. 
Since  coming  upon  the  ledge  he  had  clutched  and 
devoured  two  small  basking  sharks,  from  six  to 
eight  feet  long,  and  a  sawfish  fully  ten  feet  long, 
who  had  not  been  on  their  guard  against  the  ap- 
proach of  such  a  peril.  Besides  these  substantial 
victims,  countless  small  fry,  of  every  kind,  had 


302       ztbe  ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

been  drawn  deftly  to  the  insatiable  vortex  of  his 
maw.  Nevertheless,  his  appetite  was  again  crying 
out.  He  tried  the  wreck  again,  first  carefully, 
then  boldly,  till  the  writhing  tentacles,  with  their 
sensitive  tips  and  suckers,  had  enveloped  it  from 
stem  to  stern  and  searched  it  inside  and  out. 
A  few  lurking  fish  and  mollusks  were  snatched 
from  the  dark  interior  by  those  insinuating  and  in- 
exorable feelers;  and  a  toothsome  harvest  of 
anchored  crustaceans  was  gathered  from  the  hid- 
den surfaces  along  beside  the  keel.  But  of  the 
bodies  of  the  pirates  that  had  gone  down  in  the 
sudden  foundering  there  was  nothing  left  but 
bones,  which  the  myriad  scavengers  of  the  sea  had 
polished  to  the  barren  smoothness  of  ivory. 

While  the  pallid  monster  was  occupied  in  the 
investigation  of  the  wreck  those  two  great  bulging 
black  mirrors  of  his  eyes  were  sleeplessly  alert  to 
everything  that  passed  above  or  about  them. 
Once  a  swordfish,  about  seven  feet  long,  sailed 
carelessly  though  swiftly  some  ten  feet  overhead. 
Up  darted  a  livid  tentacle,  and  fixed  upon  it  with 
the  deadly  sucking  disks.  In  vain  the  splendid 
and  ferocious  fish  lashed  out  in  the  effort  to 
wrench  itself  free.  In  vain  it  strove  to  plunge 
downward  and  pierce  the  puffy  monster  with  its 


«  UP    DARTED    A    LIVID    TENTACLE,    AND    FIXED    UPON    IT." 


Ube  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        303 

sword.  In  a  second  two  more  tentacles  were 
wrapped  about  it.  Then,  all  force  crushed  out  of 
it,  it  was  dragged  down  and  crammed  into  the 
conqueror's  horrible  mouth. 

While  its  mouth  was  yet  working  with  the  sat- 
isfaction of  this  meal,  the  monster  saw  a  graceful 
but  massive  black  shape,  nearly  half  as  long  as 
himself,  swimming  slowly  between  his  eyes  and 
the  shining  surface.  At  the  sight  a  shudder  of 
fear  passed  over  him.  Every  waving  tentacle 
shrank  back  and  lay  moveless,  as  if  suddenly 
paralyzed,  and  he  flattened  himself  down  as  best 
he  could  beside  the  dark  hulk  of  the  wreck.  Well 
he  knew  that  dark  shape  was  a  whale  —  and  a 
whale  was  the  one  being  he  knew  of  which  he  had 
cause  to  fear.  Against  those  rending  jaws  his 
cable-like  tentacles  and  tearing  beak  were  of  no 
avail,  his  unarmoured  body  utterly  defence- 
less. 

The  whale,  however,  —  not  a  sperm,  but  one  of 
a  much  smaller,  though  more  savage,  species  — 
the  "  killer,"  —  did  not  catch  sight  of  the  giant 
cuttlefish  cringing  below  him.  Intent  on  other 
game,  he  passed  swiftly  on.  His  presence,  how- 
ever, had  for  the  moment  destroyed  the  monster's 
appetite.  Instead  of  continuing  his  search  for 


304       Ube  Ibaunters  of  tbe  Silences 

food,  he  wanted  a  hiding-place.  He  could  no 
longer  be  at  ease  for  a  moment  there  in  the 
open. 

Just  behind  the  wreck  the  rock  wall  rose 
abruptly  to  the  surface  of  the  reef.  Its  base  was 
hollowed  into  a  series  of  low  caves,  where  masses 
of  softer  rock  had  been  eaten  out  from  beneath  a 
slanting  stratum  of  more  enduring  material.  The 
most  spacious  of  these  caves  was  immediately 
behind  the  wreck.  It  wras  exactly  wrhat  the  mon- 
ster craved.  He  backed  into  it  with  alacrity, 
completely  filling  it  with  his  spectral  and  swollen 
body.  In  the  doorway  the  convex  inky  lenses  of 
his  eyes  kept  watch,  moveless  and  all-seeing.  And 
his  ten  pale-spotted  tentacles,  each  thicker  at  the 
base  than  a  man's  thigh,  lay  outspread  and  hidden 
among  the  seaweeds,  waiting  for  such  victims  as 
might  come  within  reach  of  their  lightning  snap 
and  coil . 

The  monster  had  no  more  than  got  himself 
fairly  installed  in  his  new  quarters,  when  into  the 
range  of  his  awful  eyes  came  a  singular  figure,  de- 
scending slowly  through  the  glimmering  green 
directly  over  the  wreck.  It  was  not  so  long  as  the 
swordfish  he  had  lately  swallowed,  but  it  was  thick 
and  massive-looking ;  and  it  was  blunt  at  the  ends, 


'A    SINGULAR    FIGURE,    DESCENDING    SLOWLY 
THROUGH    THE    GLIMMERING    GREEN." 


terror  of  tbe  Sea  Cat>es        305 

unlike  any  fish  he  had  ever  seen.  Its  eyes  were 
enormous,  round  and  bulging.  From  its  head 
and  from  one  of  its  curious  round,  thick  fins,  ex- 
tended two  slender  antennae  straight  up  toward 
the  surface,  and  so  long  that  their  extremities 
were  beyond  the  monster's  vision.  It  wds  indeed 
a  strange-looking  creature,  but  he  felt  sure  that  it 
would  be  very  good  to  eat.  In  their  concealment 
among  the  many-coloured  seaweeds  his  tentacles 
thrilled  with  expectancy,  and  he  waited,  like 
some  stupendous  nightmare  of  a  spider,  to 
spring  the  moment  the  prey  came  within 
reach. 

It  chanced,  however,  that  just  as  the  strange 
creature,  descending  without  any  movement  of  its 
fins,  did  come  within  reach,  there  also  appeared 
again,  in  the  distance,  the  black  form  of  the 
"  killer "  whale,  swimming  far  overhead.  The 
monster  changed  his  plans  instantly.  His  interest 
in  the  newcomer  died  out.  He  became  intent  on 
nothing  but  keeping  himself  inconspicuous.  The 
newcomer,  unconscious  of  the  terror  lying  in  wait 
so  near  him  and  of  the  dark  form  patrolling  the 
upper  green,  alighted  upon  the  wreck  and  groped 
his  way  lumberingly  into  the  cabin,  dragging  those 
two  slim  antennae  behind  him. 


306       Ube  tmunters  ot  tbe  Silences 

IV 

When  Jan  Laurvik,  in  his  up-to-date  and  well- 
tested  diving-suit,  went  down  through  the  green 
twilight  of  the  sea,  he  was  doing  what  it  was  his 
profession  to  do,  and  he  had  few  misgivings.  He 
had  confidence  in  his  equipment,  in  his  skill,  and 
in  his  mate  at  the  rope  and  the  air-pump,  Captain 
Jerry.  For  defence  against  any  obtrusive  shark 
or  sawfish  he  carried  a  heavy,  long-bladed,  two- 
edged  knife,  by  far  the  most  effective  weapon  in 
deep  water.  This  knife  he  wore  in  a  sheath  at  his 
waist,  with  a  cord  attached  to  the  handle  so  that 
it  could  not  get  away  from  him.  He  carried  also 
a  tiny  electric  battery  supplying  a  strong  lamp 
on  the  front  of  his  head-piece  just  above  his 
eyes. 

From  his  long  experience  in  sounding  and  in 
locating  wrecks,  Jan  Laurvik  had  acquired  an 
accuracy  that  seemed  almost  like  divination. 
His  soundings,  in  this  instance,  had  been  partic- 
ularly thorough,  because  he  did  not  wish  to  waste 
any  more  time  than  necessary  at  the  depth  in 
which  he  would  have  to  work.  He  was  not  sur- 
prised, therefore,  when  he  found  himself  descend- 
ing upon  the  wreck  of  a  junk.  Moreover,  as  it  was 
not  an  old  wreck,  he  concluded  that  it  was  the  junk 


terror  ot  tbe  Sea  Caves        307 

which  he  was  looking  for.  The  wreck  had  settled 
almost  on  an  even  keel;  and  as  he  was  familiar 
with  craft  of  her  type,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  find- 
ing his  way  about. 

It  was  in  the  narrow,  closet-like  structure  which 
served  as  the  junk's  cabin  that  the  pirate  had  said 
the  pearls  would  be  found.  The  door  was  open. 
Turning  on  his  light,  which  struggled  with  the 
water  and  diffused  a  ghostly  glow,  he  found  him- 
self confronted  by  a  hideous  little  joss  of  red-and- 
gilt  lacquer.  He  knew  it  was  lacquer,  and  of  the 
best,  for  nothing  else,  except  gold  itself,  would 
have  withstood  the  months  of  soaking  in  sea-water. 
Jan  grinned  to  himself,  there  within  his  rubber 
and  copper  shell,  at  this  evidence  of  pirate  piety. 
Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  a  man  like  the  pirate 
captain  would  probably  have  turned  his  piety  to 
practical  use.  What  better  guardian  of  the  treas- 
ure than  a  god?  Dragging  the  gaudy  deity  from 
his  altar,  he  found  the  altar  hollow.  In  that 
secure  receptacle  lay  a  series  of  packages  done  up 
with  careful  precision  in  wrappings  of  oiled  silk. 
He  knew  the  style  of  wrapping  very  well.  For  all 
his  coolness,  his  heart  fell  to  thumping  painfully 
at  the  sight  of  this  vast  wealth  beneath  his  hand. 
Then  he  realized  that  the  pressure  of  the  water,  and 


3o8       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

of  the  compressed  air  in  his  helmet,  was  beginning 
to  tell  upon  him.  In  fierce  but  orderly  haste  he 
corded  the  packages  about  his  middle  and  turned 
to  leave  the  cabin.  He  would  make  another  trip 
for  the  lacquer  god,  and  for  such  other  articles  of 
value  or  vertu  which  the  junk  might  contain. 

Jan  turned  to  leave  the  cabin.  But  in  the  door- 
way he  started  back  with  a  shudder  of  dread  and 
loathing.  A  slender,  twisting  thing,  whitish  in 
colour  and  minutely  speckled  with  livid  spots, 
reached  in,  and  fastened  upon  his  arm  with  soft- 
looking  suckers  which  held  like  death. 

Jan  knew  instantly  what  the  pale,  writhing 
thing  was.  Out  flashed  his  knife.  With  a  swift 
stroke  he  slashed  off  the  detaining  tip,  where  it  had 
a  thickness  of  perhaps  two  inches.  The  raw  stump 
shrank  back,  like  a  severed  worm,  and  Jan,  leaping 
clear  of  the  doorway,  signalled  furiously  to  be 
hauled  up.  But  at  the  same  instant  two  more  of 
the  curling  white  things  came  reaching  over  the 
bulwarks  and  fastened  upon  him  —  one  upon  his 
right  arm,  hampering  him  so  that  he  was  almost 
helpless,  and  the  other  upon  his  left  leg  just  above 
the  knee.  He  felt  his  signal  promptly  answered 
by  a  powerful  tug  on  the  rope.  But  he  was  an- 
chored to  the  wreck  as  if  he  had  grown  to  it, 


Ube  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        309 

Never  before  had  Jan  Laurvik  felt  the  clutch  of 
fear  at  his  heart  as  he  did  at  this  moment.  But 
not  for  an  instant,  in  the  horror^  did  he  lose  his 
presence  of  mind.  He  knew  that  in  a  pulling 
match  with  the  giant  devil-fish  of  the  deeps  his 
comrades  in  the  boat  far  overhead  would  be  no- 
where. He  had  made  a  mistake  in  leaving  the 
cabin.  Frantically  he  signalled  with  his  left  hand, 
to  "  slack  away  "  on  the  rope;  and  at  the  same 
time,  though  hampered  by  the  grip  on  his  right 
arm,  he  managed  to  slash  off  the  end  of  the  feeler 
that  had  fixed  upon  his  leg.  On  the  instant, 
whipping  the  knife  over  to  his  left,  he  cut  his  right 
arm  clear,  and  sprang  back  into  the  doorway. 

Jan's  idea  was  that  by  keeping  just  inside  the 
cabin  door  he  could  defend  himself  from  being 
surrounded  by  the  assault  of  the  writhing  things. 
He  knew  that  in  the  open  he  would  speedily  be 
enfolded  and  crushed,  and  engulfed  between  the 
jaws  of  the  monstrous  squid.  But  in  the  narrow 
doorway  the  swift  play  of  his  blade  would  have 
some  chance.  He  gained  the  doorway.  He  got 
fairly  inside  it,  indeed.  But  as  he  entered  he  was 
horrified  to  see  the  thick  stump,  whose  tip  he  had 
shorn  off,  dart  in  with  him  and  fix  itself,  by  its 
bigger  and  more  irresistible  suckers,  upon  the 


3io       Ube  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

middle  of  his  breast.  With  a  shiver  he  sliced  off 
the  fatal  disks,  in  one  long  sweep  of  his  blade; 
then  turned  like  a  flash  to  sever  a  pallid  tip  which 
had  fastened  upon  his  helmet. 

Jan  was  now  thankful  enough  that  he  had  got 
himself  into  the  narrow  doorway.  Seemingly  un- 
disturbed by  the  slashings  and  slicings  which  some 
of  them  had  received,  the  whole  ten  squirming 
horrors  now  darted  at  the  doorway.  Jan's  knife 
swooped  this  way  and  that;  but  as  fast  as  he 
severed  one  clutch  twro  more  would  make  good. 
The  cut  tentacles  grew  to  be  the  more  terrifying, 
because  their  suckers  were  so  big ;  and  they  them- 
selves were  so  thick  and  hard  to  cut.  Presently 
no  fewer  than  three  of  the  diabolical  things  laid 
their  loathsome  hold  upon  his  right  leg,  below  the 
knee,  and  began  to  haul  it  out  through  the  door. 
Jan  slashed  at  them  madly,  but  not  altogether 
effectually;  for  at  this  moment  another  tentacle 
had  laid  grip  upon  his  arm  below  the  elbow.  He 
had  just  time  to  shift  the  knife  again  to  his  left 
and  catch  the  jamb  of  the  door,'  when  he  felt  his 
helmet  almost  jerked  from  his  head.  This  grip  he 
dared  not  interfere  with,  lest  he  should  cut,  at  the 
same  time,  the  air- tube  that  fed  his  lungs,  and 
drowr  like  a  rat  in  a  hole.  All  he  could  do  was 


tlbe  terror  ot  tbe  Sea  Caves        311 

hold  on  to  the  door-jamb,  and  carve  away  savagely 
at  the  tentacles  which  were  within  reach.  If  he 
could  get  free  of  those,  he  calculated  that  he  could 
then  reach  the  one  which  had  fastened  to  his  head- 
piece by  throwing  himself  over  on  his  back  and  so 
bringing  it  within  range  of  his  vision  and  his  knife. 
At  this  moment,  however,  just  as  the  pressure  upon 
his  neck  was  becoming  intolerable,  he  felt  his  head 
suddenly  released.  One  of  the  great  sucking  disks 
had  crushed  in  the  glass  of  the  electric  lamp  and 
fastened  upon  the  live  wire.  The  sensation  it 
experienced  was  evidently  not  pleasant,  for  it  let 
go  promptly,  and  secured  a  new  hold  upon  Jan's 
left  arm. 

This  hold  left  him  almost  helpless,  because  he 
could  no  longer  wield  the  knife  freely  with  Cither 
hand.  He  felt  himself  slowly  being  pulled  out  of 
the  doorway  by  his  right  leg.  Throwing  himself 
partly  backward,  and  partly  behind  the  door,  he 
gained  a  firmer  brace  and  at  the  same  time  brought 
his  knife  again  into  better  play.  He  would  fight 
to  the  very  last  gasp,  but  he  felt  that  the  odds  had 
now  gone  overwhelmingly  against  him.  The  fear 
of  death  itself  was  not  heavy  upon  him.  He  had 
faced  it  too  often,  and  too  coolly,  for  that.  But  at 
the  manner  of  this  death  that  confronted  him  his 


312       Ube  haunters  of  tbe  Silences 

very  soul  sickened  with  loathing.  As  he  thought 
of  it,  his  horror  was  not  lessened  by  the  sight  which 
now  greeted  his  view.  A  colossal,  swollen,  leprous- 
looking  bulk,  pallid  and  spotted,  was  mounting 
over  the  bulwark.  Two  great  oval  lenses  of  clear 
blackness,  set  close  together,  were  in  the  front  of 
the  bulk,  just  over  the  spot  where  the  tentacles 
started.  These  gigantic,  appalling,  expressionless 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  him.  The  monster  was  com- 
ing aboard  to  see  what  kind  of  creature  it  was  that 
was  giving  him  so  much  trouble. 

Jan  saw  that  the  end  of  the  fight  was  very  near. 
The  thought,  however,  did  not  unnerve  him. 
Rather,  it  put  new  fire  into  his  nerves  and  muscles. 
By  a  tremendous  wrench  he  succeeded  in  reaching 
with  the  knife  the  tentacle  that  bound  his  right 
arm.  This  freedom  was  like  a  new  lease  of  life 
to  him.  He  made  swift  play  with  his  blade,  so 
savagely  that  he  was  able  to  drag  himself  back 
almost  completely  into  the  cabin  before  the  writh- 
ing horrors  again  closed  upon  him.  But  mean- 
while, the  monster's  gigantic  body  had  gained  the 
deck.  Those  two  awful  eyes  were  slowly  drawing 
nearer;  and  below  them  he  saw  the  viscid  mouth 
opening  and  shutting  in  anticipation. 

At  this  a  kind  of  madness  began  to  surge  up  in 


tterror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves        313 

Jan  Laurvik's  overtaxed  brain.  His  veins  seemed 
to  surge  with  fresh  power,  as  if  there  wrere  nothing 
too  tremendous  for  him  to  accomplish.  He  was 
on  the  very  point  of  stopping  his  resistance,  plun- 
ging straight  in  among  the  arms,  and  burying  his 
big  blade  in  those  unspeakable  eyes.  It  would  be 
a  satisfaction,  at  least,  to  force  them  to  change 
their  expression.  And  then,  well,  something 
might  happen ! 

Before  he  could  put  this  desperate  scheme  into 
execution,  however,  something  did  happen.  Jan 
was  aware  of  a  sudden  darkness  overhead.  The 
monster  was  evidently  aware  of  it,  too,  for  every 
one  of  the  twisting  horrors  suddenly  shrank  away, 
leaving  Jan  to  lean  up  against  the  doonvay,  free. 
The  next  moment  a  huge  black  shape  descended 
perpendicularly  upon  the  fleshy  mountain  of  the 
monster's  back,  and  a  rush  of  water  drove  Jan 
backward  into  the  cabin. 

As  the  electric  lamp  had  gone  out  when  the  glass 
was  broken,  Jan  could  see  but  dimly  the  awful 
battle  of  giants  now  going  on  before  him.  So 
excited  was  he  that  he  forgot  his  own  new  peril. 
The  danger  was  now  that  in  the  struggle  one  or 
other  of  the  battling  bulks  might  well  crush  the 
cabin  flat,  or  entangle  the  air-tube  and  life-line 


314       lEbe  tmunters  of  tbe  Silences 

In  either  case  Jan's  finish  would  be  swift;  but  in 
comparison  with  the  loathsome  death  from  which 
he  had  just  been  so  miraculously  saved,  such  an 
end  seemed  no  very  dreadful  thing.  He  was 
altogether  absorbed  in  watching  the  prowess  of  his 
avenging  rescuer. 

Skilled  in  deep-sea  lore  as  he  was,  he  knew  the 
dark  fury  which  had  swooped  down  upon  the  devil- 
fish. It  was  a  "  killer  "  whale,  or  grampus,  the 
most  redoubtable  and  implacable  fighter  of  all  the 
kindreds  of  the  sea.  Jan  saw  its  wide  jaws  shear 
off  three  mighty  tentacles  at  once,  close  at  the 
base.  The  others  writhed  up  hideously  and 
fastened  upon  him,  but  under  the  surging  of  his 
resistless  muscles  their  tissues  tore  apart  like 
snapped  cables.  Huge  masses  of  the  monster's 
ghastly  flesh  were  bitten  off,  and  thrown  aside. 
Then,  gaining  a  grip  that  took  in  the  monster's 
head  and  the  roots  of  the  tentacles,  the  killer  shook 
his  prey  as  a  bulldog  might  shake  a  fat  sheep.  The 
tentacles  straightened  out  slackly.  Jan  saw  that 
the  fight  was  over;  and  that  it  was  high  time  for 
him  to  remove  from  that  too  strenuous  neighbour- 
hood. He  gave  the  signal  vehemently,  and  was 
drawn  up,  without  attracting  his  dangerous 
rescuer's  notice.  When  Captain  Jerry  hauled 


ZEbe  terror  of  tbe  Sea  Caves         315 

him  in  over  the  boatside,  he  fell  in  an  unconscious 
heap. 

When  Jan  came  to  himself  he  was  in  his  bunk 
on  the  Sarawak.  It  was  an  utter  physical  and 
nervous  exhaustion  that  had  overcome  him.  His 
swoon  had  passed  into  a  heavy  sleep,  and  when  he 
awoke  he  sat  up  with  a  start.  Captain  Jerry  was 
at  his  side,  bursting  with  suppressed  curiosity; 
and  the  Scotch  engineer  was  standing  by  the  bunk. 

"  Waal,  partner,  you've  delivered  the  goods  all 
right!  "  drawled  Captain  Jerry.  "  They're  the 
stuff,  not  a  doubt  of  it.  But  kind  o'  seemed  to  us 
up  here  you  were  having  high  jinks  of  one  kind  or 
another  down  there.  What  was  it?  " 

"  It  was  hell!  "  responded  Jan  with  a  shudder. 
Then  he  took  hold  of  Captain  Jerry's  hand,  and 
felt  it,  as  if  to  make  sure  it  was  real,  or  as  if  he 
needed  the  feel  of  honest  human  flesh  again  to 
bring  him  to  his  senses. 

"  Ugh!  "  he  went  on,  swinging  out  of  the  bunk. 
"  Let  me  get  out  into  the  sunlight  again !  Let  me 
see  the  sky  again !  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  by  an' 
by,  Jerry.  But  wait.  Were  all  the  packages  on 
me,  all  right?  " 

"  I  reckon!  "  responded  Captain  Jerry.  "  There 
was  six  of  'em  tied  on  to  you.  I  reckon  they're 


316       Ube  t>aunters  of  tbe  Silences 

worth  the  three  hundred  an'  fifty  thousand  all 
right!  " 

"  Well,  let's  get  away  from  this  place  quick  as 
we  can  get  steam  up  again!  "  said  Jan.  "  There's 
more  swag  down  there,  I  guess  —  lots  of  it.  But 
I  wouldn't  go  down  again,  nor  send  another  man 
down,  for  all  the  millions  we've  all  of  us  ever  heard 
tell  of.  Mr.  McWha,  how  soon  can  we  be  mov- 
ing? " 

"Ten  meenutes,  more  or  less!"  replied  the 
Scotchman. 

"  All  right!  When  we're  outside  of  this  accursed 
bay,  an'  round  the  '  Camel '  yonder,  I'll  tell  you 
what  it's  like  down  there  under  that  shiny  green." 


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CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 

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THE  SHERRODS.  With  illustrations  byC.  D.Williams 

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as  '  Graustark '  and  quite  as  entertaining." — Bookman.  "  A  charm- 
ing love  story  well  told." — Boston  Transcript, 

HALF  A  ROGUE.    By  Harold  MacGrath.     With  illustra- 
tions and  inlay  cover  picture  by  Harrison  Fisher. 
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really  human  and  humanly  real,  spirit  and  gladness,  freshness  and 
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cess and  all  the  great  things  worth  fighting  for  and  living  for  the  in- 
volved in  '  Half  a  Rogue.'  " — Phila.  Press. 

THE  GIRL  FROM  TIM'S   PLACE.      By   Charles   Clark 

Munn.  With  illustrations  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
"  Figuring  in  the  pages  of  this  story  there  are  several  strong  char- 
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and  fortune.  There  is  a  chain  of  comedy,  tragedy,  pathos  and  love, 
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THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE.    A  story  of  American  Life. 
By  Charles  Klein,  and  Arthur  Hornblow.      With  illustra- 
tions by  Stuart  Travis,  and  Scenes  from  the  Play. 
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briefly  in  the  short  space  of  four  acts.      All  this  is  narrated  in  the 
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BARBARA    WINSLOW,    REBEL.      By   Elizabeth   Ellis. 

With  illustrations  by  John  Rae,  and  colored  inlay  cover. 
The  following,  taken  from  story,  will  best  desciibe  the  heroine  : 
A  TOAST :  "  To  the  bravest  comrade  in  misfortune,  the  sweetest 
companion  in  peace  and  at  all  times  the  most  courageous  of  women." 
— Barbara  Winslow.  "  A  romantic  story,  buoyant,  eventful,  and  in 
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SUSAN.    By  Ernest  Oldmeadow.    With  a  color  frontispiece 

by  Frank  Haviland.  Medalion  in  color  on  front  cover. 
Lord  Ruddington  falls  helplessly  in  love  with  Miss  Langley,  whom 
he  sees  in  one  of  her  walks  accompanied  by  her  maid,  Susan. 
Through  a  misapprehension  of  personalities  his  lordship  addresses 
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and  an  epistolary  love-making  goes  on  till  they  are  disillusioned.  It 
naturally  makes  a  droll  and  delightful  little  comedy ;  and  is  a  story 
that  is  particularly  clever  in  the  telling. 

WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Web- 
ster.    With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
"The  book  is  a  treasure." — Chicago  Daily    News.       "Bright, 
•whimsical,  and  thoroughly  entertaining. " — Buffalo  Express.    "  One 
of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been  writ- 
ten."— N.  Y.  Press.    "  To  any  woman  who  has  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  a  college  life  this  book  cannot  fail  to  bring  back  many  sweet  recol- 
lections;  and  to  those  who  have  not  been  to  college  the  wit,  lightness, 
and  charm  of  Patty  are  sure  to  be  no  less  delightful."— Public  Opinion. 

THE  MASQUERADER.      By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

With  illustrations  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 
"  You  can't  drop  it  till  you  have  turned  the  last  page." — Cleveland 
Leader.  "  Its  very  audacity  of  motive,  of  execution,  of  solution,  al- 
most takes  one's  breath  away.  The  boldness  of  its  denouement 
is  sublime."— Boston  Transcript.  "  The  literary  hit  of  a  generation. 
The  best  of  it  is  the  story  deserves  all  its  success.  A  masterly  story." 
— St.  Louis  Dispatch.  "  The  story  is  ingeniously  told,  and  cleverly 
constructed." —  The  Dial. 

THE  GAMBLER.    By   Katherine  Cecil  Thurston.     With 

illustrations  by  John  Campbell. 

"  Tells  of  a  high  strung  young  Irish  woman  who  has  a  passion  for 
gambling,  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  sporting  ancestors.  She  has 
a  high  sense  of  honor,  too,  and  that  causes  complications.  She  is  a 
very  human,  lovable  character,  and  love  saves  her." — JV.  Y.  Times. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
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Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper— most  of  them  with  illustra- 
tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN.     By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

With  illustrations  by  Martin  Justice. 

"  As  superlatively  clever  in  the  writing  as  it  is  entertaining  in  the 
reading.  It  is  actual  comedy  of  the  most  artistic  sort,  and  it  is 
handled  with  a  freshness  and  originality  that  is  unquestionably 
novel."— Boston  Transcript.  "  A  feast  of  humor  and  good  cheer, 
yet  subtly  pervaded  by  special  shades  of  feeling,  fancy,  tenderness, 
or  whimsicality.  A  merry  thing  in  prose."— St.  Louis  Democrat. 

ROSE  O'  THE  RIVER.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.    With 

illustrations  by  George  Wright. 

"  '  Rose  o'  the  River,'  a  charming  bit  of  sentiment,  gracefully 
written  and  deftly  touched  with  a  gentle  humor.  It  is  a  dainty  book 
—daintily  illustrated." — New  York  Tribune.  "A  wholesome,  bright, 
refreshing  story,  an  ideal  book  to  give  a  young  girl."—  Chicago 
Record-Herald.  "  An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita- 
ble humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life." — London  Mail. 

TILLIE  :    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inhentance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed."—  The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
•'The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author." — New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach."— London  Times.  "In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter."—  North  American  Review. 

THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAR.  By  Henry  K.  Webster. 
"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story.1' — New  York  Times.  "Intense- 
ly thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor."—  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUXL\P,  -  NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT    BOOKS 
IN   POPULAR    PRICED    EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra- 
tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price  75  cents  a  volume  postpaid 

THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE   SERVICE.      By   Edith   Elmer 

Wood  With  illustrations  by  Rufus  Zogbaum- 
The  standards  and  life  of  '•  the  new  navy ;  are  breezily  set  forth 
with  a  genuine  ring  impossible  from  the  most  gifted  "outsider." 
"  The  story  of  the  destruction  of  the  '  Maine,'  and  of  the  Battle  of 
Manila,  are  very  dramatic.  The  author  is  the  daughter  of  one  naval 
officer  and  the  wife  of  another.  Naval  folks  will  find  much  to  inter- 
est them  in  '  The  Spirit  of  the  Service.'  "—The  Book  Buyer. 

A  SPECTRE  OF  POWER.  By  Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 
Miss  Murfree  has  pictured  Tennessee  mountains  and  the  mountain 
people  in  striking  colors  and  with  dramatic  vividness,  but  goes  back 
to  the  time  of  the  struggles  of  the  French  and  English  in  the  early 
eighteenth  century  for  possession  of  the  Cherokee  territory.  The 
story  abounds  in  adventure,  mystery,  peril  and  suspense. 

THE  STORM  CENTRE,    By  Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 

A  wai  story ,  but  more  of  flirtation,  love  and  courtship  than  of 
fighting  or  history.  The  tale  is  thoroughly  readable  and  takes  its 
readers  again  into  golden  Tennessee,  into  the  atmosphere  which  has 
distinguished  all  of  Miss  Murfree's  novels. 

THE  ADVENTURESS  By  Corklie  Stanton  With  color 
frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher,  and  attractive  inlay  cover 
in  colors 

As  a  penalty  for  her  crimes,  her  evil  nature,  her  flint-like  callous- 
ness, her  more  than  inhuman  cruelty,  her  contempt  for  the  laws  of 
God  and  man,  she  was  condemned  to  bury  her  magnificent  personal- 
ty, her  transcendent  beauty,  her  superhuman  charms,  in  gilded 
obscunty  at  a  King's  left  hand.  A  powerful  story  powerfully  told, 

THE    GOLDEN    GREYHOUND.      A   Novel  by  Dwight 

Tilton      With  illustrations  by  E.  Pollak, 

A  thoroughly  good  story  that  keeps  you  guessing  to  the  very  end, 
and  never  attempts  to  instruct  or  reform  you.  It  is  a  strictly  up-to- 
date  story  of  love  and  mystery  with  wireless  telegraphy  and  all  the 
modern  improvements  The  events  nearly  all  take  place  on  a  big 
Atlantic  liner  and  the  romance  of  the  deep  is  skilfully  made  to  serve 
as  a  set  ting  for  the  romance,  old  as  mankind,  yet  always  new,  in- 
volving our  hero. 

GROSSET  &  DCJNLAP.  NEW  YORK 


NEW  POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF 

MARY  JOHNSTON'S 
NOVELS 

TO  HAVE  AND  TO  HOLD 

It  was  something  new  and  startling  to  see  an  au- 
thor's first  novel  sell  up  into  the  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, as  did  this  one.  The  ablest  critics  spoke  of 
it  in  such  terms  as  "  Breathless  interest,"  The  high 
water  mark  of  American  fiction  since  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  "  Surpasses  all,"  "  Without  a  rival,"  "  Ten- 
der and  delicate,"  "  As  good  a  story  of  adventure  as 
one  can  find,"  "  The  best  style  of  love  story,  clean, 
pure  and  wholesome." 
AUDREY 

With  the  brilliant  imagination  and  the  splendid 
courage  of  youth,  she  has  stormed  the  very  citadel 
of  adventure.  Indeed  it  would  be  impossible  to 
carry  the  romantic  spirit  any  deeper  into  fiction. — 
Agnes  Repplier. 

PRISONERS  OF  HOPE 

Pronounced  by  the  critics  classical,  accurate,  inter- 
esting, American,  original,  vigorous,  full  of  move- 
ment and  life,  dramatic  and  fascinating,  instinct  with 
life  and  passion,  and  preserving  throughout  a  singu- 
larly even  level  of  excellence. 

Each  volume  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  Large 
12  mo.  size.  Price,  75  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,    PUBLISHERS 
52  DUANE  STREET  ::          NEW  YORK 


THE  GROSSET  AND  DUNLAP  SPECIAL 

EDITIONS  OF  POPULAR  NO  VELS  THAT 

HA  VE  BEEN  DRAMATIZED. 

BREWSTER'S    MILLIONS:      By    George    Barr 

McCutcheon. 

A  clever,  fascinating  tale,  with  a  striking  and  un- 
usual plot.  With  illustrations  from  the  original  New 
York  production  of  the  play. 

THE  LITTLE  MINISTER :     By  J.  M.  Barrie. 

With  illustrations  from  the  play  as  presented  by 
Maude  Adams,  and  a  vignette  in  gold  of  Miss  Adams 
on  the  cover. 

CHECKERS :    By  Henry  M.  Blossom,  Jr. 

A  story  of  the  Race  Track.  Illustrated  with  scenes 
from  the  play  as  originally  presented  in  New  York 
by  Thomas  W.  Ross  who  created  the  stage  character. 

THE  CHRISTIAN :    By  Hall  Caine. 
THE  ETERNAL  CITY :    By  Hall  Caine. 

Each  has  been  elaborately  and  successfully  staged. 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING:    By  F.  Marion 
Crawford. 

A  love  story  of  Old  Madrid,  with  full  page  illustra- 
tions.   Originally  played  with  great  success  by  Viola 
Allen. 
JANICE  MEREDITH :     By  Paul  Leicester  Ford. 

New  edition  with  an  especially  attractive  cover, 
a  really  handsome  book.  Originally  played  by  Mary 
Mannering,  who  created  the  title  role. 

These  books  are  handsomely  bound  in  cloth,  are 
well-made  in  every  respect,  and  aside  from  their  un- 
usual merit  as  stories,  are  particularly  interesting  to 
those  who  like  things  theatrical.  Price,  postpaid, 
seventy-five  cents  each. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLA"15,    PUBLISHERS 
52  DUANE  STREET          ::          NEW  YORK 


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